The Journey to the Games
by KeshaRocks
Summary: *OC Skylar and Silk are two different people from two different districts. And when they're pulled into the Hunger Games, even before they're in the arena, a connection is made. In the arena, they work together and fight together in a desolate wasteland. But in the end, will their friendship last them to the end of the Journey?
1. Chapter 1

Dawn is a whisper in the cold morning air as Skylar tightened the leather strap of her sheath of arrows, adjusting it so it fits smoothly against her spine. Tucking wisps of her ebony hair behind her ear, she secures it with a simple hair-tie and pulls on her combat boot and a lightweight jacket. With autumn closing in, the morning air becomes for frigid.

It was about six o'clock in the morning, the dark navy of the sky surrendering to the early morning haze as it bled across the sky. If it weren't for the weekend, she'd be getting ready for school right about now. Usually on Saturdays, the average teenager would sleeping, enjoy their free time, but Skylar is not average. Even on the weekends she still needs to get up early. Even with the limited lighting, Skylar made her usual trek down the gritty cobblestone road, past the two stables and towards the grain fields of her family's farm.

Living in District 9, her family was one of the middle-class citizens who lived a normal life apart from the Games. Ignoring the smell of processing grain from the millers, Skylar alternates between a steady jog and a walk towards the shed just outside the borderline of the fields. Unlatching the padlock, she pulls open the rustic doors, a high-pitched squeal of distress.

Mingling through the other farm equipment, she finds her recurve bow tucked away in the back, propped in the corner, wrapped in a thick dust cover. Tossing the cover aside on a lawnmower, Skylar secures the string on the notch and heads out to the fields.

In District 9, you get to pick one of the four job options of Cropper, Farmer, Plower, Sower, and Harvester. Being she doesn't know how to work the equipment for the grain, nor possess the attention span or care to learn, Skylar settled for helping harvest the crops the tractors can't reach. She was also given the assignment of riding the fields of any vermin – mice, raccoons, squirrels, and even deer on a good day – from the fields. Usually all she has to do it swipe her bow around the grass and they'll flee, but every once in a while, she tends to shoot a few here and there.

Keeping her feet steady, Skylar shuts her eyes and concentrates on the ground beneath her toes. One skill she harnessed from her father by studying foxes, feeling the vibrations of smaller animals scurrying through the fields. So far, the field seems clear.

Walking through the fields, swiping her bow through the grass left and right, she listens for signs of movement. Nothing seems to be around.

Guess even the animals like to shut themselves in their homes for Reaping Day.

Skylar's stomach knots at the thought of seeing herself filing into the town's Square, sectioned off with other seventeen-year-olds, waiting intently for her name to be called. So far the odds seemed to be in her favor, but she knew better than to believe that she wouldn't get picked. And she didn't even think about someone volunteering for her, no one really cared about her that much.

But the one person she knew in her gut would volunteer for her is her best friend, Alexandrite. They've been best friends since kindergarten, and practically inseparable since. Skylar knew she'd volunteer, but she told her not to. She couldn't let Alex do that to her own family as well as Skylar's. Plus the level of fault would bare such a heavy burden, along with watching her best friend die on television, Skylar would probably lose the will for life.

Suddenly the snap of a twig snaps Skylar's attention. She whirls around raising her bow, finding a doe deer a few yards in front of her. Skylar pulls back the string, but suddenly sees a fawn walk out from behind her. Sighing, Skylar lowers her bow and brings two fingers to her mouth, releasing high-pitched whistle. The deer look right at her, and instantly the mother takes off, the fawn soon follows.

With two hours until the workers arrive, Skylar continues her patrol over the fields, swiping her bow over the fields.

Hours later, Skylar's trip not only rewarded her with little work, but also a chance to horse-ride with her father to the marketplace of District 9.

As she got home, her mother was preparing lunch and her sister was studying at the dining table in the other room. Her sister, Rachel, was seven years older than her. That makes her twenty four and clear of the Reaping for the Hunger Games. Her long smooth brown hair was tucked behind both ears as she hovered herself over a textbook that explained about Dimensia.

Her mother seemed oddly upbeat on Reaping Day. Despite her curiosity, Skylar's curiosity, as soon as her father suggested they go to the market, her suspicion slipped away from her in a quick _whoosh_, like a magician's cloth.

Now she wraps her coat around herself and push into the sparse crowds still drifting stall to stall in Lower Market, haggling over produce, rubbing linens between their fingers to check for quality. Riding horseback, Skylar and her dad trot into the market, dismount and lead them along the roads by the reins. Flicking the hood of her coat over her head, she makes sure it hides every strand of her ebony hair that makes her so easily recognizable.

Unlike everyone else, including her parents, Skylar's hair was darker than everyone else's who had a rather perfect shade of chocolate hair. And of everyone in her family, she was the only given hazel eyes when her mother has blue, and her father has brown. Her sister dyed her hair lighter out of needing to fit in whereas Skylar kept it, not finding a need for it. The only thing she hate is that she always has to keep it in an unattractive ponytail, along with the long-line of never having a boyfriend.

The Lower Market is laid out like a man's back. The main road forms the spine and leads toward the North, while smaller roads and alleys branch off like ribs running east and west. Her hearts pounds a little faster as she aims for the left side of the main road and starts walking with her father. Skylar alternates between checking out the stalls and stroking the muzzle of her horse.

They're rarities in District 9, some people travel by wheelbarrow, foot, and if you were lucky enough, a raggedy donkey was good. Owning a horse was like owning a million bucks, given all the tasks and things they can do more than the average human.

The first stall they reach is a trestle table laden with a few remaining crates of juicy pears and thick-skinned melons. A woman and her husband squeeze the fruit between their fingers before loading up their sack, murmuring to each other as they weigh each choice. Ignoring them, they move on. A glance at the sky tells Skylar they have about thirty minutes until it's Reaping time.

Puddles gouge the gritty road, courtesy of an early-afternoon rain shower. Skylar passes the butcher, already cleaning his knives and packing away the last of his mutton, and wrinkles her nose as the rusty scent of drying sheep's blood lies heavy on the air, minutes with the smell of mud.

Two more stalls down, they reach the candle maker's and the first of the west-running roads. Skylar tucks her head down, hiding both her hair and her face beneath her hood. No one stops them as they make a left turn, though she feels the stares burning through the heavy leather of her jacket. Probably wondering what psychotic gesture made them decide to bring their horses to the Lower Market.

A man on their left is hawking a collection of hunting knives with leather sheaths. Normally in the districts, carrying weapons is illegal, penalty is death, but given District 9 is grain, there's an exception. Giving his wares a cursory glance, Skylar slides her hand in the inner pocket of her jacket, and run her fingers along the sheath she wears strapped to her waist. Her father comes over.

"His knives are nice." Skylar says.

"Yours is better." He comments. "Move along." Her father says through a chuckle as he gestures her further.

Sharing a smile, Skylar leaves her knife alone and keeps walking. They've made the journey to the baker Oliver's tent together more times than she can count, and there are never any Peacekeepers on the western side of Lower Market this late in the day. Still, they move briskly and keep to the sides, hoping to avoid attracting too much attention.

They're nearly halfway to their destination when they reach an open wagon filled with bags of dried lentils, onions, and white beans. The merchant's daughter scoops beans into burlap sacks. While her father examines a sack of plenty-white onions, Skylar sidesteps them but pulls up short as one of the men whistles softly, a low three-note tune that sends chills up her spine. Her heart pounds, thunderous, uneven rhythm, and starts looking for a way out. Relief fills her when she sees her father coming up behind her.

Her eyes scrape over the canvas tents anchored to the ground with iron pegs. Sliding past the wagon, crowds begin to sluggishly move along the streets, conversations muted. Two left turns later, we're at the western edge of the market. They sidestep a woman wrestling a plucked turkey into the woven basket strapped to her back, and approach Oliver's stall.

The yeasty aroma of braided raisin loaves pierced by the sharp sweetness of orange buns wraps around Skylar, and her stomach reminds her she hasn't bothered to eat since early morning. Oliver stands alone amid wooden tables draped in crumb-coated white cotton and covered with trays holding the last of his baked goods.

Oliver looks up, smiles, and plucks a sticky bun from the stash he always keeps for the children who visit. He knows they're Skylar's favorite. "Almost thought you'd forgotten I'd made your favorite."

Skylar smiles, shrugging and her hood slips a bit. She snatches the sticky bun Oliver tosses in her direction. She tears off a chunk of bread, popping it in her mouth. The warm gooey sweetness permeating her tongue.

"Anything for a sweet bun." She says. "Besides, I haven't eaten lunch."

"Exactly, so don't tell your mother. She'll give me a lecture if she knows I let you have sweets before lunch." Her father says.

"Technically, Oliver gave me the sticky bun." Skylar says with a smirk.

"Nevertheless, I'll never hear the end of it."

Skylar laughs as she digs through her saddlebag, looking for her wallet. Suddenly she hears Oliver's voice. "Not today, sweetie." He says.

She looks to him in confusion. "How else can I pay for the bun?"

"You're practically my own granddaughter. The bun is a gift."

Skylar's heart sinks as she leans into Oliver's massive chest as he opens his arms to her. The warm scent of his baking clings to him and fills her with memories of happier times when she could crawl into his lap, listen to his deep voice telling her a fairy tale, and feel her world settle back into near-perfect lines again. She wraps her arms around him, wanting one last moment with him before the Reaping. He hugs her back.

"You've grown since I last saw you." He says, changing the subject. She's relieved.

Her laugh sounds more like a sob, and she chokes it back. She gives Oliver a tiny smile as she pulls away. "Well, mom's been making me eat my greens."

"She still needs to eat more." Her father interjects. Skylar gently smiles.

"Nonetheless," Oliver says, raising his hand to Skylar's cheek, and love glows in his eyes, filling her with bittersweet warmth. "you've grown into a beautiful young woman."

Skylar clamps her lips together, stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss against his weathered cheek. Already aching what missing him. Moving away from Oliver, she circles around the table, fumbling with her coat buttons before mounting her horse.

"I'll see you later Oliver." She says.

Her father mounts his horse, and after a gentle smile, they snap their reins and the horses trot out of the market.

By the time they get home, Skylar's mom has made her favorite lunch. A bowl of fresh pasta along with garlic bread. Skylar finishes the bowl and takes a few bites of the bread to please her, then tells her mother her stomach hurts. If it weren't for the Reaping today, her mother's would've known about the sticky bun. The only time the Reaping comes in handy.

Her mother excuses her, and Skylar leaves to take a shower. She scrubbed off the dirt and grime as it washes down the drain, massaging her scalp with a sweet-smelling shampoo, and shaving her legs. Shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower, she wraps her hair in a towel and pulled on the fluffy purple robe her mom had given her last Christmas.

Skylar gathered up her dirty, sweat-stained clothes. She left the steamy, warm bathroom, huddling into her robe as she passed through the frigid hallway and made the five-foot trek to her room. She dropped her clothes in the hamper and when she turned, she stopped when she saw something on her bed.

Her mouth gaped at the sight of a beautiful green dress meant for a Homecoming dance rather than the Reaping, even if the Reaping was now, somehow considered a formal affair.

She runs her hands along the skirt, feeling the fabric and admires the piece of lace.

"Do you like it, honey?"

Skylar turns to find her mother standing in her doorway, along with her sister. A pained look on their faces, covered by a mask of approval. Instead of answering her question, Skylar asks, "Are you sure?"

Her mother nods and steps through the threshold of her bedroom. "I saw it and immediately thought of you. I thought the green would help bring out your eyes, and contrasting with your dark hair. It'll look beautiful."

"And I can do your hair." Rachel adds.

Skylar allows the feeling of appreciation to germinate through her as she let her mother help her into the dress. The dark green velvet hugs her upper body and falls in graceful lines to her ankles. Black lace panels shimmer between the skirt's folds, and black ribbon laces up the back. Then sitting down in front of her vanity mirror, her sister heats up the curling iron and start to wrap her hair around the barrel. For the finishing touch, her sister puts her hair in a waterfall braid and pulls forward a few curls.

Stepping aside, Skylar looks at herself in the mirror and feels her heart leap in her chest.

As she spoke the words in her head, her mother spoke them aloud. "You look beautiful."

Skylar stares at herself aw in amazement. She turns to her mom and sister. "Thank you." She croaks. "I just wish this could've been for a better occasion."

She hugs her mother and sister, and looks to see her father in the doorway. His eyes glassy with water. He smiles and gives her a long hug. When he pulls away he says, "Honey there's one more thing."

He reaches into his front pocket and close his fist around a leather pouch, pulling it out into the open.

"What is it?" she glances at the pouch.

"It's a gift for you. And it would mean a lot to your mother and me if you'd accept it."

He tugs open the brown drawstring, takes her hand and dumps the contents into her hand.

It's an intricately designed silver pendant made of a dozen interlocked circles with a glowing icy-blue stone in the center of it. The necklace hands on a glittering silver chain. It was in the shape of a cross.

"It was my mother's." Skylar's mother chimes. "It's a Celtic cross. The stone is a sapphire, which symbolizes faithfulness."

Skylar immediately clenches her fingers around it, and then slowly reaches out to hand it back to her father. "I can't accept this."

He closes his fingers around hers, the necklace still resting in her palm.

"You're worth so much more than anything we can give you, sweetheart."

He holds her gaze, then she turns, lifts her hair and waits for him to fasten the chain. When she turns back, the pendant rests against her chest, glowing like it was always meant for her.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tower began to chime the hour. Loud, brazen bongs ricocheted through the house. It was a sound that gripped Skylar, wrung her with its meaning.

"Ready?" her father asks.

He holds his hand out, and Skylar takes it locking their fingers.

The streets bustle today, full of people heading to the Square for the Reaping. By the time Skylar and her family arrives, citizens have filled the Center Square. Girls in brilliant jewel-toned dresses cluster together, boys in tuxedos and suits, each looking tremendously uncomfortable. Peering through the masses, Skylar managed to find Alexandrite. Her strapless, mermaid dress as iridescent as a pearl, her birthstone. The wooden stage, the same one used for executions, is scrubbed clean and draped with red ribbon. Sitting atop are long-back chairs, a podium and the two large glass bowls for the boys and girls.

As Skylar and her family walk hand in hand through the Center Square, armed Peacekeepers enter the Square and fan out, stationing themselves at three-yard intervals along the edge. Behind them, twelve members march through the Square, two by two. The lead pair reaches the stage, halts, and faces each other. Each subsequent pair also stops and faces each other until they've formed a tight, citizen-free aisle between them.

Finally, Skylar has to release her father's hand and file her way to the group of seventeen-year-olds. Finding an open space, she looks to her left and right, complimenting one girl on the color of her dress.

Another three long peas from the bell and every guard in the Square snaps his right forearm up to his forehead in a rigid salute. Silence, dense and absolute, falls across the Square as the mayor strides down the aisle toward the stage. Taking the discreet route, two of the chairs fill with the District's former victor, Hadrian Lenovo as well as District 9's Capital escort, Astrid Diamond.

Her pale hair is long, white as snow with soft muted colors of purple, pink and blue, and reaches down to her lower back. Her bangs are smoothed across her forehead, held in place by a black headband. She wears a deep-blue dress encrusted with glittering diamonds. A glittering line of thread along the neckline. The dress _fits_ her. The deep blue of the dress brings out the blue in her eyes, and the diamonds sewn into the bodice sparkle in the light.

She's breathtaking.

Hadrian was in his early twenties, being the only victor out of three alive. His green eyes are stark and cold, the concentrated green of pale jade. His thin wrists lined in black leather bands specked with hostile silver studs. He was one long line of black, his well-worn, tightly strapped boots crossed at the ankles. Outlined in smudged black kohl, his eyes focused on Skylar, unblinking through the feathery strands of his jet-black hair, and it was like being watched through a cage by a complacent and calculating cat.

Discomfort welled in her, thick and black as an oil spring.

Skylar tried to pay attention as the mayor, a stout man wearing an ever-so-obvious toupee, strode up to the podium and began the ceremony with a speech about the history of Panem.

The rules have changed since a few years ago. Now, it was more of a journey to get to heaven it seemed, rather than fighting to the death. Tributes were to travel through a desolate wasteland, to a mountain where they shall be declared victor. There can be only two victors, but they had to be from the same District. So now, teamwork was a big impact on who will win and lose.

After the speech is done, the mayor plays a video from the Capital and soon introduces Astrid as she toes up to the podium. "Welcome everyone!" her voice booming across the Square, nearly startling Skylar. Her voice sending a stream of irritation through Skylar's veins. "This is truly a lovely day here in District 9. And may I say, you ladies all look absolutely beautiful! Boys, very handsome. But enough dillydallying, let's just cut to the chase shall we?"

Save everyone the torture, Skylar thinks.

She fists the skirt of her dress as Astrid strolls over to the bowl for the girls. The coiling tension becomes suffocating as she picks a slip of paper and goes back to the podium. She unfolds the paper and reads the name.

"Skylar Henderson."

For a moment, the blood drained from Skylar's face. Like an illusion, the stage, the Square and the people all melted away until each of them became no more than a distant pinprick in her awareness. Her mind freewheeled, feeling herself disconnect from reality. Dred welled in her chest. Her mouth gaped in a gasp as she felt the air sucked from her lungs.

She forced herself to close it and take a deep breath as the gazes of the other girls and boys turned towards her. The weight of their pity is like a stone tied about her neck. She feels it in the stares, the puckered skin between their frowning brows, the hushed whispers of the families that carry across the Square like tiny daggers drawing blood.

She swallowed back a sob. It felt like drowning.

Forcing herself to emerge from the crowd, she robotically steps through the crowd until she's in the aisle created by the Peacekeepers. Tears sting her eyes, and she clenches her jaw so hard her teeth grind together, digging her nails into her palms.

I'm not going to cry, she thought. Not now.

She stands straight and makes her way to the stage, careful not to meet the gazes of the Peacekeepers as their eyes follow her. She can feel her arms trembling and stiffens her muscles as she mounts the stairs, lifting her skirt just above the ankle as proper.

Astrid holds out her hand and Skylar takes it gratefully. Forcing a small smiles as she pulls her next to the podium. "Well now you are quite the stunning beauty, just look at you!" she speaks into the microphone.

Skylar finds her family around the perimeter of the Square. Her sister is huddled into her mother, and her mother into her father. Her sister and mother's face red and blotchy, streaked with tears, weeping desperately. Her father's eyes watery, threatening to spill over any moment.

For a moment, Skylar wants to join them. Burrow into them. Share the dread and grief and pretend it can help. But it won't.

Astrid must've mentioned about piking thru boy tribute because Skylar feels her hand leave. Glancing over, she watches as Astrid walks over and digs her hand into the glass bowl of the boys. Skylar takes another deep breath as she comes back over and unfolds the paper.

"Kalvin Cooper."

Skylar watches as the boys shift and all look to a sturdy, muscled boy. Appearing the same age as Skylar, he has pitch-black hair with little specks of red highlights sprinkled along the ends. His suit was black with a pale-rose colored shirt underneath. As he steps out of the crowd, Skylar notices a couple of chains attached to the belt loops of his trousers.

Skylar forced herself to get it together as he mounted the stairs to the stage. He didn't look scared or worried as he stepped up next to Astrid.

Astrid asks for volunteers for him, and no one steps up. When she asks for Skylar, Skylar's eyes immediately find Alex in the crowd. Their eyes meet, and Skylar can see the temptation in her eyes. Skylar gives an intense stare from the stage.

And no one volunteers.

Beneath the overwhelming emotions, Skylar recognizes one, and its relief.

As the mayor finishes with the long speech, Skylar isn't listening. By the time he's done, she realizes she's been staring at Kalvin, captivated by his angular features. Upon closer inspection, she finds a small metal loop that hugged one corner of his mouth. As the mayor motions for them to shake hands, she blinks, her face growing warm.

Grasping Kalvin's hands, she feels a cool slip of silver press into the skin of her ring finger. He gives her a small nod of his head, and she returns it.

The last thing she hears as she's escorted into the mayor's mansion, it the sound of an agonized wailing across the Square.

It was her sister.


	2. Chapter 2

A gentle stroke on her arm, nearly startles her. Fluttering her eyes open, Silk finds her father's face hovering over her, a gentle smile on his wan features.

"Sorry to startle you honey, but it's time to get up." he whispers to her.

Groaning in aggravation, Silk pushes herself to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes. "Should I pack a lunch?"

"No, we're only there for half the day, remember it's Reaping Day." Her father answers, the pain harshly suppressed in his tone.

Silk's heart triples in speed at the mention of Reaping Day. Immediately she remembers that feeling of anxiety every time she files into the center of her town. She must've been nervous because her father wraps an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

Though he offers no words of encouragement. He doesn't say it's going to be okay.

He knows better. It won't help.

"Come on honey." he says with a kiss on her forehead. "Time to get dressed."

Pushing off the covers, Silk slips into her boots and pulls on a pair of pants and a simple t-shirt. Putting her hair in a ponytail, she follows her dad downstairs for breakfast.

When she young, her mother abandoned her and her father to live in the Capital with another man. In so, she doesn't necessarily trust people that easily. Her father was the best mechanic in the town. He wudlve been promoted, heck he'd even be in charge

Given her father doesn't trust anyone with his daughter, he in turn took to her to work with him. Once she reached her teen years, she already knew her father's job like the back of her hand and was added to the minor workers in the factory. She had the ability to put anything back together if it was broken apart. Sometimes she wishes she could do the same for her father's eternal broken heart, but there are some thing you just can't fix as easily.

Something special she harnessed was her strategy skills. Between lunch breaks, Silk would watch the works participate in a game of checkers. Soon she joined in and was the continuing reigning champion. She could even beat the oldest of workers.

As they finish their breakfast of simple cereal and milk, Silk grabs her fleece from the rack and follows her father outside into the autumn air. Cool air breezed around them, stirring her grey-string hair, blowing up the scent of rusty leaves and that singed autumn smell that was almost spicy.

Following her dad, Silk gets into the passenger side of her father's car – a simple Malibu - as he revs the engine. It roars to life, the warm air melting away the frigid breeze of fall. Silk remains quiet as her father pulled out of the driveway, joining the flow of traffic. Gazing out her window, Silk watched as people timidly flipped their open signs and unlocked their doors.

Everyone could feel the coiled tension through the entire town as Reaping Day casted over it like a depressing and ominous cloud ready to drown the town in shower of rain. Silk rubbed her arm and tried to slow her heartrate as the center of town came into her view.

District 3 was, she'll admit, better than some others. It wasn't perfect, but tolerable. Since they were in charge of technology, they were a little more modern than the other districts, but nowhere near as advance as the Capital. Silk's imagination runs wild at the thought of the many technological devices there were. Touch screen computers, wireless phones, showers that have a massage setting to them. Her skin claws with goosebumps despite the warmth of the car.

"You're awfully quiet." She hears her father say. Though he doesn't need to ask why.

"I hate this day as much as I hate the color orange." Silk mumbles.

Her father shushes her softly and says. "I know honey, and I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"If mom cared she would've gone straight to the president and demand he stop." Silk snaps.

"Now, now honey." He softly gestures, slightly calming her rapidly growing aggravation. "It's not always that simple."

"Still she could at least do something with that money she dug out of that Capital jackwad." Silk hisses.

"We don't know what job your mother has in the Capital." Her father replies.

"It doesn't really matter what she has, no matter what it is, we both know it's better than the minimal jobs they offer you here, Dad. You could do so much better in the Capital if mom would only give you a recommendation. But I guess when she left she really didn't look back." Silk finishes, sighing in disappointment.

Her father doesn't reply, because she's right. At first, Silk thought her mother had left to help gather together enough money to transport them to the Capital, but instead, she left them to waste away in District 3 while she nips on caviar on the daily.

It was then Silk lost all respect for her mother, and declared her a disappointment of a mother.

She always avoided talking about her in front of her dad, knowing she'd go off on a whole different tangent telling him how she practically hates her now and won't ever accept her as her mother.

Pulling up to the factory, Silk unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, forcing her lips to pinch together, suppressing the many insulting words wanting to escape her lips.

Of the jobs she was given to pick – Technical support, Assembly operator, Engineer, Tester, Technician, Electronic installation, Experimental physicist, Inventor – Silk had chosen to join her father in inventing, but was soon transferred to Engineer.

The day dwells on as she continues to check the same equipment that comes along on the conveyer belt. Checking for problems, glitches, chipped pieces that could be dangerous if it were to go out on stock. She kept staring out of the floor-to-wall window across from her, over the shoulder of her co-worker. The clouds were rolling in and she glanced at the clock bolted to the wall next to the window, a metal bracket brace din front of it for protection. The electric red numbers read noon.

Silk's stomach lurched.

She dismissed herself for a break and wandered to her father's station, consisting of a table covered with papers, inkwells, wires, and bits of copper. In the center, beside a stack of carefully drawn designs, lie the beginnings of an invention he's hoping will solve their entire situation.

She moved forward out of line, taking a few slow steps into the cafeteria, like she was trying to be careful not to spill her lemonade. She scanned the room. As usual, like high school, everyone sat within their designated social sphere. Compueter geeks near the far wall. The hippies in the corner, some of them on the floor. The jocks at the tables overlooking the courtyard. And in the corner farthest from the windows, like a gaggle of dark, exotic birds, sat the goths and weirdos. Plopping down in a vacant seat at the vacant table in the center, she shielded her eyes from other workers passing by.

She poked at her chicken nuggets with her fork, quickly losing herself in her thoughts. Of her mother, of the Reaping, of the approaching hour of who will be going into an arena for the Capital's entertainment. Silk felt her fingers twitch with anger at the thought of her mother laughing and enjoying the picture of a young man slicing the throat of another.

She pierced her tray, stabbing through the styrofoam tray and nearly tipping the tray's contents all over herself. Luckily it didn't, and Silk got up leaving the tray how it was and stormed outside, ignoring the glances of the workers of whose attention she attracted and pushed through the back exit door, escaping into the frigid autumn air.

Making her way through the step-stone path, she came up to the bench where she and her friend Brian would sit and talk all through the breaks they shared. But given he was two years older than her, his hours soon changed as he was promoted to the work older members. Then he soon got his graduation degree and moved on to study in some university. Their contact limited.

Now it would seem her father is the only person in the district – no, in the world that she loves. And know he loves her in return. A breeze kicks up and wisps of her hair tickle her cheeks.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Silk rested her chin as she stared out at the neighboring apple orchard and planting field owned by a wealthy merchant in town. Last year, the merchant planted corn, and the broken stubs of the harvested plants still poke through the ground like jagged teeth.

"Not hungry?" a voice calls behind.

Peering over her shoulder, her father strode over with, sitting down next to her with two slices of marble cake in each hand. Her favorite. She smiled as he handed her the slice, and taking her fork, she scooped up a piece and placed it in her mouth. The sweet mixture of vanilla and chocolate topped with cream made her mouth flood with saliva.

"Guess only for dessert." Her father says, referring back to his question.

"Never turn down marble cake." Silk quotes.

"Listen honey. You seem rather, distracted today." Her father says. "Why don't you take the car and drive through town? To clear your mind."

Silk looks to her father grateful, yet confused. "Really?"

Her father replies by bringing up his hand and jingling the keys to the car. "Go, you're done for the day anyway. And by the way, if you decide to head home, Ms. Mayble left you a gift."

Silk takes the keys with a slow hand, expecting her father to start laughing, but he didn't. Silk places down her plate and reaches over to hugs her father.

"Thanks dad." She whispers.

Getting up, Silk heads back inside and snatches her jacket from her locker. She sneaks into the boiler room, which the janitor had left open while he cleaned up the cafeteria. She hurried past the noise and heat of the boiler and through the back door. She shut it behind her and was certain by the click that it made that it had locked automatically.

She stooped, sneaking around the side of the building and through the rows of faculty cars toward the lot. This would be the toughest part, getting in the car and out of the lot without being noticed. The rear of the factory was covered with windows. Still her mind was set. If she got caught, then she got caught, and she'd take the blame, sparing her father the punishment. She was fairly sure she could talk him out of any major trouble if she had to.

At least she had a plan. Unless her Dad had a ride home from work, she'd come back and say she accidentally took a nap while on her break. She was pretty sure that if she could get away from the factory undetected, and if she waited until the end of hour to return, she might be able to pull it off.

But there was a problem. It was one hour until Reaping. And she needed to get ready.

And that pretty much butchered her whole idea.

Sighing in annoyance, Silk got in the driver's side of the car, revved the engine and buckled herself in. in District 3, given they're technology, a law was passed that when a boy or girl reach the age of sixteen, then they can apply to have a driver's license. Silk of which, with the dedicated hours of her father, earned her a month after her seventeenth birthday.

Pulling out of the lot, she slowed as she drove out onto the main road. Dead leaves swirled in the wind tunnel she made with her escape, the trees lining the streets receding into the distance. Driving along the road, she tried to keep her focus as she saw the center of town in her rear-view mirror. Several workers were setting up the stage and washing off the stone steps leading up to City Hall. She passed a group of college students on the right, huddled on the sidewalk, waiting for the crosswalk light to change.

At the intersection, she made a right onto the familiar back road leading to her house. Pulling into the driveway, she taskes notice of the Cadillac parked across the street of her home. She pushes open the door and steps out, making her way up to the front door, locking the door with a press of a button.

Stepping through, she hangs her coat on the rack poised at the front door. Glancing past the foyer, she notices the swinging door leading to the kitchen, was propped open. That raised an alarm since she and her father always kept it closed except when they were hosting for the holidays.

Silk stepped through the archway of the kitchen to find her neighbor, Ms. Mayble at the sink, cutting chunks of boiled chicken with a pair of red-handled culinary scissors. Father down the counter, thin, crescent slices of celery remained piled on a cutting board.

As if sensing her presence, Ms. Mayble glanced up and smiled. "Oh, there you are honey. Id didn't hear you come home."

Silk pauses past the threshold. "Hey, Ms. Mayble. Uh, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"Your father asked me to help you get ready, knowing you wouldn't put much effort in it yourself." She said with a soft smile.

Silk rolls her eyes in amusement as Ms. Mayble wiped her hands on a dish rag and walked over to her. Tossing the towel onto one shoulder, she takes a chunk of Silk's hair and rubs it between her fingers like a piece of fabric.

Ms. Mayble had been her family's neighbor for years. Since Silk was little, since her mom hadn't abandoned her for some man in the Capital. She was the cool, hipster grandmother if Silk had to describe her.

She had long faded blonde hair, her roots displaying the gray of her age and of which she usually held back with a bandanna or a low ponytail tied at the nape of her neck. Her grey eyes held a glint of the baby-blue they once possessed. A pair of spectacles rested atop her head, the chain curving downward and disappearing behind her neck. She always wore long, flowing, flowery broom skirts with black leotard pants underneath and fitted sweaters layered over tank tops.

"Come on, I've got something for you." She said as she guided Silk upstairs.

Upstairs, Silk stepped into the shower as Ms. Mayble organized her outfit for the Reaping. She managed to catch a glint of folds lace and a pair of rose pink flats.

Wrenching out her hair, she dresses in a fuzzy robe and walks into her room to find Ms. Mayble by her vanity. "Here, sit. I'll take care of everything." She speaks sweetly.

Silk obeys and sits at the stool in front of her vanity mirror. Ms. Mayble takes the towel and pats her hair to soak up extra moisture. She set the towel aside and reached for the metallic green dryer on her nightstand and flicked it on to the lowest setting. Turning her head to one side, Ms. Mayble idly waved the blow dryer back and forth through Silk's hair. Once her hair was dry, Silk dresses in her underclothes. Then Ms. Mayble placed the dress over her head and pulled down.

Silk fought through the folds of pink to bring her arms through the tunnel of the cinched waist. The satin lining slid smooth and ice-cold against her bare skin, making her gasp. Her fingers wiggled through, seeking for straps or sleeves, but then, without warning, Ms. Mayble yanked the dress into place, and Silk realized that there weren't any.

"Lean forward." She said, and pulled up the zipper. The fabric drew snug around Silk's body, molding her perfectly.

Silk stared at herself in the reflection of her mirror. The thing was vintage and frilly. It had a lace overlay, a sweetheart neckline, and a poofy skirt that frills out and falls to just below the knees when she stood. It was nothing Silk would have ever picked out herself – almost too pretty, with the pink satin ribbon that tied around the waist.

Sitting back down at her vanity, Silk allowed herself to be dressed and primped. Ms. Mayble proceeded to brush and twist her hair. Silk felt a bobby in scrape her scalp, then another. When she turned again to face her mirror, her hair was in a beautiful braided updo.

Ms. Mayble steps back to admire her work. "What do you think?"

Silk looked beautiful. The pink contrasted with her icy green eyes, and her hair was lovely.

"I love it." She says.

Turning to Ms. Mayble, she gives her a hug and Ms. Mayble returns it. She rubs Silk's back and Silk chokes back a sob.

Looking up, she sees her father standing in the doorway. His eyes water at the sight of his beautiful daughter.

"My god," he mumbles. "you're so beautiful."

Silk returns the smile and folds her hands in front of her as her father steps through.

"I want to give you something. It's another reason why I leant you the car. I needed to get you out of the factory." Silk looks to him in confusion as he digs into the satchel he always takes to work. She watches him pull out a silver metal bracelet. It curved into a cuff, and engraved on the side was an intricate, elegant floral design. At the center was a beautiful topaz sparkled like moonlight on water.

Silk gapes at it in awe as her father takes her wrist and slides the cuff on with ease. The metal feels cold against her skin and sends goosebumps along her arm.

"Whatever you do, don't take it off." Her father says. "It's special, and my gift to you."

Silk looks to her father, seeing the love and fear in his eyes. The fear tugs at her heart. Her father protects her in every way that he can, and yet he's powerless when it comes to the games. She presses into her father's frame and whispers that it'll be okay in his ear.

Though she doesn't know if it's for him, or to herself.

As her father helps her into the car, they drive in silence. Silk stared out her window at passing trees, the fall colors seemingly neon beneath the grey overcast. The car turned off the main road and into a small narrow street, leading to the richer parts of the neighborhood.

Towering homes stood on either side, facing one another like dance partners preparing to waltz. This was just like the dream Hiccup had, where he found the mist, Jolene. The houses themselves were incredible, each practically a castle in its own right, their facades done up in decorative brickwork and tiling, their fronts accented with small porches, porticos, and verandahs, the perimeters of which were set by carved pillars. Some of the homes had balconies, while other had rounded turrets with pointed rooftops. As they passed one grey-toned fortress of a home built completely of stone, Silk thought she could make out tiny faces set into the façade, their mouths open in an O shape, their eyebrows angled down in fearsome scowls.

A heavy wind rushed by, causing then leafy heads of enormous, ancient looking trees to swish back and forth. She stared up at the house. It had three levels, the topmost of which she thought might be an attic. The roof met in the peak there, with a little subroof sticking out from underneath the first framing a rectangular, three-paneled window crosshatched by white Xs.

A small concrete porch led up to the front door, shaded by a simple verandah, which was itself supported by a row of painted white pillars. The front door, done in an opaque gold stained-glass design, shimmered a satiny dim yellow in the late afternoon sunlight.

Her father switched off the car and got out. Silk got out too, careful for press the folds of her skirt to her legs.

At the very back of the neighborhood there was no outlet, instead, it expanded back into a field of beautiful flowers. A beautifully polished mahogany wood stage as draped with green draperies, at the center embellished in gold was the District's logo. A podium was at the center of the stage, and two bowls on both side, where the corresponding gender of the tributes stands and waits. Multicolored spotlights were posted on the perimeter of the field.

Silk laces her arm through her father's formally as they walk onto the mulch road leading to the stage. Peacekeepers were already lined on either side, clearing a path for the called tributes. As she enters, she's forced to release her father's arm and kisses him on his cheek as he's escorted to the sides with Ms. Mayble. He joins in a gathering of workers as Silk lines in with the other seventeen-year-old girls of the district.

As the mayor approaches the podium and begins the opening speech, Silk's attention focuses on the three chairs occupied by her District escort from the Capital, Tula Ovley, and the remaining victor from 3, Vobmen Raidson. Both unique in their own ways.

Tula was a beautiful red-head, - reaching down to her mid-back, braided over her shoulder – it mimicked flames when it caught in the wind and sunlight. Her blue eyes were exaggerated with her eyeliner in the style of Egyptian. She wore a one-strap dress that past the bodice, it blossomed out into a beautiful ball gown style.

Vobmen was in his forties, his salt-and-pepper hair was smoothed into a classic style while he sore a simple tuxedo. His features were sharp and angular, and he was in fair shape for his age. His crystalline green eyes glinted in the light as he scanned over the crowds for the victims.

When Silk finally tuned in, Tula was already at the podium, her voice surprised Silk as it was smooth and soft. Melodic even as she spoke into the microphone.

"May I just say it's a beautiful day here in District 3, and what a gorgeous setting for today's picking of the tributes for the honor of representing 3 in the games this year. I shall start with the men. Mix things up a little."

A collective breath was drawn and Silk noticed everyone shift from one foot to the other as Tula walked over in her six-inch heels and pulls a slip. Walking back to the microphone, she unfolds it and clears her throat.

"Stagger Frame."

Immediately whispers arouse from the crowd as Silk follows the gazes to find the young man with the fear in his eyes mimicking that of a deer in headlights. He looks in a state of shock as the Peacekeepers walk over. He straightens himself despite the paleness in his face, he releases a breath and follows the Peacekeepers towards the stage, even giving them a smile as they escort him like security.

Silk wills her cheeks not to betray her as he passes by her. He was quick to cover his fear by placing his hands in his pocket in a casual way.

His hair, sandy blonde, seemed to float about him like a golden halo in the breeze. It was his eyes though, that held her so completely transfixed. Fringed with dark lashes, a piercing ice-blue luster, the pale color of concentrated sapphire, that could cut as much as convince, they trapped her, and she found herself no longer able to blink. The small black gage in his left ear being somewhat attractive given it was different from the other boys she sees at her school.

He mounts the steps and follows Tula's guiding arms to the side of the podium.

"Wonderful, and now, for the ladies."

Silk tenses as Tula walks over the bowl, plucking a slip of paper without looking long. She walks back and unfolds it.

"Silk Koune."

Silk's breathing ceases completely, to where she nearly choked. She stares at Tula, willing her to repeat the name.

Hoping there's a mistake.

She slowly glances downward, unaware of the drifting glances her way.

_No_, she thought. _This can't be right_.

But as the Peacekeepers come towards her aisle to escort her, Silk swallows her fear and steps out into the aisle, gratefully taking a Peacekeepers hand, knowing her legs would collapse beneath her. Once she's in the aisle, she keeps her gaze straight forward, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She doesn't dare look her father's way.

Instead, she holds her head high as she mounts the steps and gives Tula a small smile as she's guided towards the other side of the podium.

"Wonderful! Our tributes, Silk Koune and Stagger Frame."

As the mayor gives the closing speech, Silk looked to her father in the gathering of families, and forces herself to give him a small, sad smile. But she immediately needs to drop her gaze was her father's eyes water, his lip quivering. As they turn and shake hands, Silk meet Stagger's eyes and feels her eyes widen as he winks at her, her face feeling red at the combination of blonde hair, blue eyes and the small gouge in his ear.

Silk keeps her gaze ahead as she's turned and escorted into the castle-like mansion.

The doors closing with a loud bang, sealing her in.


	3. Chapter 3

Skylar was escorted to a study in the mansion belonging to the mayor.

The study mimicked an open living room area, with tall, sliding wooden doors. A fireplace played the role of centerpiece. The walls were lined with shelves decorated with colorful glass knickknacks and boats. Tall floor lamps with fancy Tiffany-like glass shades accented the space. The lamps especially gave the room a very "look but don't touch" feel. In one corner, like a squat gentlemen in a tuxedo, stood a polished black piano. Sitting beside the fireplace was a plush purple couch where Skylar took her seat. Bookshelves stuffed with dust-caked tomes lined the walls.

Her mind was still in shock as she replayed the calling over her name over and over, banging around the inside of her skull. Her hands fisted her dress, her knuckles white while her foot nervously tapped at the floor, waiting for her family to come say goodbye.

But she wasn't going to cry not when she knew there would be cameras following her until she gets to the train. There, she will have her breakdown. Judging from her partner, he probably didn't have any intention to befriend her since they were just going to kill each other in the end.

She tried to keep her pulse calm, worried she'd pass out. Pushing to her feet, she walked around the room, observing the books on the shelves, trailing her fingers over the mahogany tables. The study was nicer than the living room in her home, and with that in mind, she managed to distract her nerves by wondering what the rooms looks like in the Capital.

She strode toward the piano, carefully stepping around a low table with spindly legs. She moved to stand behind the instrument, where she let her fingers trial the keys. Picking one somewhere in the middle, she pressed it softly.

The note – out of tune – boomed around him.

Skylar jerked her arm back. Her elbow plowed into the shelf behind her, knocking over a picture frame. She swung around, picked up the photo – and froze when she found herself staring into the intense gaze of a green-eyed, brown-haired boy, in his teen years at most.

The photo, taken from the shoulders up, showed the boy dressed in a blue button-down, and a black vest. His gaze seemed to be fixed in an almost-scowl at the painter, like he was indignant at the idea of having his photo taken. Faint half circles underlined the boys' eyes, giving him the look of being prematurely world-weary.

Turning, she places the framed painting back on the bookshelf. At the sound of feet approaching from the hall, Skylar turned back to the piano quickly, pretending she was distracted by its beauty, allowing her fingers to ghost over the keys again.

The door opened and her mother was the first to step inside, trailing behind was her father, and her sister, her face red and blotchy, streaked with tears. She ran into the open arms of her mother, wrapping her arms around her torso and letting her mother weep into her shoulder. Skylar's eye water, but she quickly blinks them away before they could overflow.

Her mother doesn't say anything, and Skylar suspects she can't since she might end up crying more. Skylar breathes in her mothers' scent, something to remember since even she doubts she won't be coming back. Her mother's scent was warm, gentle. Like midnight lavender. When her mother pulls away, she cups Skylar's face.

"I'm so sorry honey." She whimpers.

Skylar doesn't know how to reply, so she gives her a ghost of a smile and another hug.

That sorry could be an apology for her getting picked, sorry she can't do anything to help her now, or because now she won't get to do anything a normal seventeen-year-old gets to do.

Skylar hugs her sister next. She was going for her father, but he motioned her sister first. Rachel is still weeping, as he hugs Skylar. Whimpering she buries her head in her shoulder. Even with their seven year difference, Skylar inherited her mother's legs, making her taller than Rachel only by a couple inches.

Finally as Skylar hugs her father, he smells of his favorite cologne mixed with the sharp scent of the autumn air. He wraps his arms around her neck and she rests her head on his shoulder.

He pulls her away and hold her shoulders. "Listen to me honey, don't give up. I believe in you."

"Dad, let's not do this." Her voice came out small and hollow-sounding, as though it had been a long time since she'd last used it.

"I do, honey." They sit down on the couch while her mom and sister remain standing. "Believe me I truly do."

"I believe _you_." Skylar says.

"Please don't give up so son honey." Her father tells her.

"The Careers." Skylar warns.

"If you prove your worth they might just let you join them, not only that but you can get sponsors."

"I've only killed a few things, Dad."

"It's better than nothing. And at least you know how."

"Dad, please don't do this. Pease don't fill me with false hope." Skylar's voice catches and her eyes water. She clamps her hands over her mouth to catch it.

"It's okay honey." Her father strokes her cheek. "You can cry."

"No." Skylar murmurs through her hands. She wipes her eyes and exhales deeply. "I can't. Not yet." She stares at her pale had sin her lap. "The cameras follow me until I get to the train. From there, it's a day to the Capital."

Skylar hears her father chuckle. "Smart girl. Here."

Skylar squeezes her eyes shut as she feels her mother stroke her head as she did when she was a toddler. For a moment, Skylar want to burrow in. Soak up the comfort she offers and pretend she can make it better. Instead, she sits up and gives her family one final round of hugs as the next visitor is escorted in, her family out.

Alexandrite is the next to visit. Skylar immediately walks into her arms, relaxing and rubbing her friends back as she hiccups with cries.

"I'm so sorry." She whimpered.

"Don't be."

"I should've-"

"No." Skylar cuts her off. "I'm glad." She pulls back and wipes her friend's cheek. "I need someone I can trust to watch over my family. Okay?"

Alexandrite nods like a five-year-old. Skylar takes a moment to take a mental photo of her best friend. Her long, chestnut pin-straight hair that reached her lower back, and her bangs that swept across her forehead. Her icy-green eyes watery and red-rimmed. She was wearing a slimming halter black dress where the skirt reached mid-thigh in the front and longer in the back to just below the knee. A simple clutch in her hands.

"I . . . I'm . . ." Alex tries to talk but she keeps hiccupping between words.

Skylar simply pulls her into another hug, rubbing her back. It almost seemed like Alex was the one leaving and Skylar was letting her get her emotions out before leaving.

Any other girl, including her sister would want sympathy and the cushion of her father, boyfriend, keeping all hardships from her. But while other girls in District 9 were raised to be dependent and obedient, Skylar was taught to think and act for herself. A small kindle she ignited herself, and her father helped grow and flourish.

"Listen, you're gonna be okay." Skylar tells Alex. "You'll be fine. Whatever happens on that screen, I _need_ you to take care of my family."

Alex takes a deep breath and sighs. She wipes her eyes and suddenly unzips her purse.

"Here, I brought you this."

Her elaborate ring, encrusted with amethyst gemstone, winked at Skylar in the light. Alex handed it to Skylar, the thing too beautiful to belong to District 9. It sparkled in her grasp, as if each jewel held its own glowing ember within.

"I doubt it'll make it past the interviews, but if you wear it in the games I'll be able to spot you easier." Alex jokes, but Skylar knows it's meant to be meaningful. "I remember how purple's your favorite color. So I figured . . ." she trails off.

Skylar gives her a warm smile. "Thank you."

As a Peacekeeper open the door, he lets them have another hug, and brush a kiss on the cheek before he escorts Alex out.

Finally to visit her is the last person she'd expected.

Charlie.

He comes in wearing his suit without the blazer, exposing a beautiful royal blue button-down shirt. It was Skylar's favorite color. The sunlight tangled in the red strands of his hair and shimmering like fire. His face is pale and composed, at odds with the fierce glint in his eyes as he looks to her. His blue eyes pleading.

Skylar doesn't say anything. But when he walks towards her, she lets his arms wrap around her and pull her into him.

As she returns his hug, she remembers that same look a few months ago, the day before the weekend, when everything changed between them. It was her birthday and the park was screening a new movie. At the end of school, he was just packing his backpack when Skylar had come up and started striking a conversation. They sat together in class, and they managed to find a common ground to talk about.

Her cheeks were flushing and her eyes met his with a compassion and hope. She came right out and asked him to go to the movies, and he agreed. The next week, she came to make the plans official. He had heard the vibrant hope in her words, heard the way her breath caught in her throat when he told her he had other plans, and felt clumsy and foolish.

She looked at him as he stood, his insides flaring, scrambling for something to say that wouldn't hurt her but wouldn't encourage the impossible. He tried to explain. To tell her he couldn't make it because of sports and other priorities. To assure her there would be others.

Then words were awkward and stilted, and he couldn't figure out what to do as the hope in her eyes slowly turned to pleading and finally subsided behind a cold wall of anger. He reached out, bridging the distance between them like he could somehow erase the damage, but she punched up a hand, palm out to stop him. She turned and left him standing there with nothing but the echo of his promise that she'd get over him.

And Skylar spent every second since proving him right. He hasn't had a glimpse of anything beneath the fierce independence she wears like a second skin until now.

"It's funny how on you're on the break of death that people start to notice." Skylar says.

He pulls away, and holds her forearms as he talks. "Listen, I'm so sorry."

"What-?"

"I should've gone with you, I should've just said yes. Then maybe we would've had something, and maybe things would've been different-"

"Charlie." Skylar stops his on pour of words. "If something were to have happened, this would've been a lot harder than it already is."

"But still-"

"I've seen enough people in pain already, and I don't want to add you to the list. So please, don't feel bad." Skylar ensures.

He looks down, feeling unworthy of her kind words.

Hoping to ease his guilty conscious, she steps close and kisses his cheek. His head perks up, cheeks pink and when Skylar gives him a small smile. He leaned down close, the sensation of his breath against her cheek causing her eyes to flutter shut. She felt the brush of his knuckles against her jaw. Her skin seeming to hum from where he touched her.

She felt the softness of his lips for a brief moment, and as he pulled back, she leaned close, connecting their lips again. Her body ignited with a fire of happiness, joy and victory. She allowed herself to feel it as it would probably be the first and only time she ever would.

The door opens, startling her. Drawing back her lips, the feeling disintegrating instantly.

"Time to go." The Peacekeeper said.

"I'll see you soon." Charlie ends as the door slams shut.

It's a short ride from the mayor's mansion to the train station. Skylar rarely rode in a car, she was so used to foot or wagon riding. Everything was just closer. The station is swarming with reporters and cameras. Skylar was right no to cry, and it looked like Kalvin hasn't either. Furthering her advantage to not showing her weakness to him or to the people of the Capital. Skylar keeps her back straight like her mother taught her and walked straight toward the train car.

Skylar and Kalvin were made to stand in the doorway to get a good shot for the cameras. Then they're allowed inside. Walking up the steps, Skylar braces herself as the train takes off instantly. She managed to grab the banister with her right arm, saving herself from falling into Kalvin's arms and looking pathetic. Looking back, Kalvin had his arms out ready to catch her, so she gives him a "Thanks" for willing being willing to catch her.

Stepping into the Lounge car, the beauty of the décor was nothing compared to how Skylar imagined it. There was a long plush, velvet couch with small coffee tables and beige armchairs on the other side. Further down there was a bar area. The outside zipped by with blazing speed, yet Skylar didn't feel a thing. The relief was overwhelming given she'd never ridden train, she was worried of embarrassing herself by getting carsick.

"Come on in guys! Come in." Astrid gestures. She takes Skylar's arms and guides her inside. "Isn't this beautiful? One of the many designs created by such talented people in the Capital."

Skylar shyly smiles and nods as she takes in the beauty. Her fingers braise over the granite countertop of the bar and hears the soft warbling of music filtering from nowhere.

"Very cool." Kalvin says. Glancing over her shoulder, Skylar saw him with his hands in his pockets, relaxed. Shrugging her shoulders, Skylar relaxes her posture.

"Come sit down." Astrid gestures.

Skylar walks over and flattening her skirt she sits down and sinks into the plush cushion of the seat. Kalvin sits next to her, draping his blazer of the back of the armchair, more than happy for making himself at home.

"Listen, I know these aren't the best circumstances, and it's only for a little while, but you should enjoy it. You deserve it." Astrid says.

"How?" Kalvin bluntly asks.

"Well, it's just that I feel you deserve it for having to go through, this." Astrid answers.

"So, are you against the games in a way?" Skylar timidly asks.

"I just don't find justice in airing innocent children to millions of people, getting slaughtered and mulled." Astrid answers. The hiss in her voice seeming to, genuine.

"Well, thank you for your consideration." Kalvin says. His tone sounded, offended, or disgusted.

Skylar then reminds herself not to get too caught up. It takes more than words to show when a person's genuine. Her iron-gate guard snaps back into place.

Astrid's lips purse tight together. "Well, I think I'll let you two get acquainted and settled while I go look for Hadrian."

Skylar looks to her with pleading eyes, but Astrid was already at the door, her signal clearly not penetrating that thick icy-colored skull of hers. When the doors slides shut, there's an awkward silence that becomes suffocating as the music gets quieter.

Skylar can't look out the window because the speeding images make her dizzy and her stomach clenches. She wanted to badly to retreat to her quarters so she could cry and let out all her emotions, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and leave given Astrid disposed the burden of getting acquainted with Kalvin. How could she when he was just going to kill her later?

Deciding she should just go, signal to him she had no intentions of getting to know him, she gets up. "Look at all this food they have."

She feels Kalvin's gaze on her as she hovers her fingers over the incredible delicacies set along the bar area. While she argued with herself that she shouldn't eat while on the train, the trip would be a day so she might as well.

"Enjoy it, she says." Kalvin suddenly says.

Skylar's finger was just about to pluck a brownie when he spoke, she jerked back as if it had scalded her. She looks to Kalvin who had gotten out of his seat and now stood leaning against a metal pole near the stairs.

"How can we enjoy it when we'll be dead in a few weeks?"

"Nice to see you have confidence in us." Skylar snaps.

"I'm sorry I'm, it's just, the ways he worded it was stupid."

"Shocker, Capital people, stupid." Skylar jokes, and she manages to draw a chuckle from Kalvin.

"It's also stupid how she told us to get 'acquainted' when we're supposed to be killing one another in the arena." Kalvin suddenly says.

Skylar's heart hitches in her throat, and she places back down a slice of watermelon, as her hand started to tremble and her nerves were shot.

"Yeah." She replies back.

"Look, Skylar." Her name coming from his lips sounded, beautiful, graceful. She looked and it was as if he had caught her with his eyes. "In this game, they allow two tributes to go home. If we team together, we can make it home."

She froze, locked by the intensity of his stare. His eyes were red. The perfect concentrated shade of crimson. Her gaze flicked to the small metal lop that hugged one corner of his bottom lip.

He blinked once, then slowly lifted one hand and crooked a beckoning finger.

Skylar hesitated but then as though spellbound to obey, she found herself leaning in.

"What are you staring at?" he whispered.

She drew back, her face going hot. She swiveled away from him and walked back to the couch. Leaving with no other option, she positioned herself on the couch, tucking one leg underneath, her skirt fanning out around her. Her back was to him and she picked at the nonexistent dirt underneath her fingers.

There came a slow, ominous clink of chains from behind her. Skylar went rigid. She looked up over her shoulder and found him towering over her, all tall straightness and stone pale.

He leaned down and as she felt his cheek press to her temple, a hand gripped her shoulder. She gasped slightly as his breathe tickled her ear.

"Look, Skylar. I want to work with you. I know you have potential." His hand massaged her shoulder as she spoke. "Together, we could go home." he stooped. "And if you decide not to,"

_You'll kill me mercilessly_. Skylar thought.

"At least know my heart will always belong to you."

Skylar's eyes widened in shock. Her face register it as she went rigid and felt his hand retract. His hand caught her chin and he turned and tilted her head up. His lips pressed to her forehead. The cool slip of his lip ring pressing to her skin.

"I'll be in my chamber." He breathes.

Then he's gone, leaving Skylar in numb shock.

How?! How is it that she spent her whole life, not even noticed by boys, but now, they're literally crawling all over her?! Sure there were the games, and they were posted live, and _if_ she made it back, she'd be a legend. But this was something more. First Charlie, who was the only one she ever really asked out, and now Kalvin? Who was, popular at school, but never really was seen with a woman on his arm.

To keep her head on straight, Skylar simply implied that he's baiting her. Trying to toy with her emotions so she'll fall for him, then he's stab her heart out, figuratively and literally speaking.

The door at the other end of the hall opens and Skylar expected it to be Astrid, but as she turns to speak, Hadrian and his green eyes choked her voice.

"Hey Skylar." He says with a welcoming smile. One hand in his pocket as he uses the other to grab a piece of pie sliced for hands instead of a plate.

"Hi, um, Hadrian right?" Skylar shyly replies.

"Yeah." He answers. Skylar watches as he makes his way over to her. "May I?" he asks motioning to the seat in front of her.

"Please." She answers, then mentally slaps herself.

"Listen, Skylar." He sets aside the piece and wipes his mouth and hands. "I'm sorry that this happened to you." He looks to her and Skylar is once again left speechless at the sight of his green eyes. "But please know I'm here to help you in any way that I can."

Of everyone who apologized to her, apart from Alex and her family, Hadrian's was the most believable. Skylar knew that in her gut. He's been through this before, he knows what she's going through. So if anyone could _truly_ understand her predicament, it had to be Hadrian.

She smiles. "Thank you."

"So, please don't be afraid to ask me anything. I want to help you. Not just throw you to the wolves and see what happens." Hadrian adds on. "I want you to know that, okay?"

Skylar nods, the feeling of security slowly growing stronger. She blinks and a tears escapes her eyes.

"Oh." She looks away and mentally curses. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Hadrian says. He snatches a napkin from the holder and hands it to her.

"Thank you." She whispers. Wiping her eyes she takes a deep breath.

"It's been a very emotional day. Here, let me show you to your quarters." Hadrian gestures.

Hadrian holds out his hand and Skylar takes it as he help her up.

She follows him through at least two doorways until they reach the rooms. Each tribute has their own chamber complete with a bedroom, their own bathroom and closet with clothes. The bed sheets and comforter felt so soft and smooth under her fingertips. She ran her palm along the decorative pillows and the embroidery.

"Dinner will be ready soon." Hadrian says, only to have Skylar realize he was standing in the door watching her. Her face grows warm and she says, "Thank you."

With another friendly smile, Hadrian pushes off the frame and walks off.

Skylar can feel herself goofily smiling as well, as she continues to inspect the room. If this was the room for the train, what will the Capital rooms look like?

Her eyes trail up and her heart jars as she sees Kalvin looking directly at her.

Suddenly her door closes, severing their stares.

Skylar carefully steps out of her dress, folding it and placing it on the bed. Taking a warm shower, she felt bad for taking out her sister's waterfall braid, but when the warm water permeates her scalp, she sighs with pleasure. Her aching follicles relieving as the water soaks her hair. Stepping out, she wraps a towel around herself and steps out into the room. Closing the blinds, she digs through the drawers filled with fine clothing at her disposal.

She settles for a flannel shirt, skinny-leg yoga pants and cozy slippers.

The shirt is oversized so it stops mid-thigh. Putting her hair in a messy bun, Skylar follows Astrid as she collects her for dinner.

The tables were set with silver and pearl-white plates, which were actually made of pearl, for all Skylar knows. The table was overflowing with food. A crown roast, filet tied with rosemary, and exotic dishes she'd never seen before. A large bird stuffed with dressing and pears, resting on peacock feathers arranged to resemble a live bird's open tail. And sparkling candies shaped like live seahorses.

Judging from the way everyone sat, Astrid had either already eaten, or was too busy making sure she as looking pretty to eat. Kalvin was seated with a plate of roast and ham. It was all buffest style, take what you want, so Skylar decided to stick with the food she knew.

Two crispy chicken legs and a bowl of mac&cheese.

She decided to sit across from Hadrian, giving him a shy smile.

"That's all?" he asks.

"I have a sensitive stomach. I don't want to get sick before the games." Skylar answers.

"Here." He pushes a fray of crispy, circular rings toward her. Above all smells, lemon wafted to her nose. Next to it were two small cups with dressing sauces.

"What is it?"

"Fried Calamari." Hadrian answers. Skylar gives him a confused look. "It's fried squid."

Skylar gives it a look of disgust and slight horror. She leans away from it as if it's ready to crawl toward her.

"Oh come on. How do you know you don't like it if you don't try it?" Hadrian teases.

"You sound like my mother." Skylar sasses.

"Come one, it's good. Anything fried is good." Kalvin jokes.

Skylar watches as he stabs a ring with his fork and holds it up for her. His other hand cupping beneath it to prevent falling crumbs. Knowing what he's trying to do, Skylar decides to amuse him and leans over the table. Kalvin slowly lets her mouth envelope the ring, then chewing, her mouth is rewarded with a burst of sweet and crispy flavor.

She sits back down, chewing. Swallowing, she looks to him in surprise. "Whoa, that is good."

"Told you." Kalvin chuckled.

"Good to see you two getting along." Hadrian's voice sounds.

Turning, the two see him standing in a simple black V-neck and jeans. The front of the shirt lifted to expose the buckle of his belt. And his hair was not the stark black she saw before, but a gentle wheat color. He smiled down at her, his eyes somehow warmer, greener like a forest.

"Well that's new." Skylar jokes, and Hadrian smiles. "What's with the sudden new look?"

"Well, I was told my look wouldn't be too 'appealing' to the people of the Capital." Hadrian emphasis with raptor-claws air quotes. "So I was given a shampoo that rinses out my hair dye."

"Apparently, Goth adults is so last season." Kalvin jokes and Skylar giggles.

Kalvin smiles at her and Skylar then felt her cheeks heat. S she focused on scooping up much of the fried calamari as she could. After packing his plate, it didn't surprise her when Hadrian sat down at the head of the table as if to emphasis on his position over both of them.

"So, what do you guys think so far?" he asks as he takes a slip of pasta noodles.

"Well, I like the shower." Skylar answers without thinking.

Hadrian chuckles and Kalvin smiles.

"You really should try some of the scents they have." Astrid calls.

"Aren't you going to join us?" Skylar asks.

"Oh no darling, I already ate."

Looking to Kalvin, he's shaking his head. She hasn't eaten. She wants to look good. Skylar rolls her eyes and takes a sip of water. Even the simple drink had an umbrella in it along with colored ice. The ice clinked against her glass, the sound seeming to drown out the thrum of the low music around them.

"So Hadrian," she speaks up, and he looks to her while sipping his iced tea. "I wanted to ask you about the Careers."

"Ah, good place to start."

"Should we be trying to befriend them?" Skylar asks.

"Well, they'd certainly be a great way to get you to the near end, but given you're from a minor district, it'll take something big to get them to _consider_ you." Hadrian explains. "Now not that neither of you are worthless, but given they're trained since the age of five, they need to know you'll be useful."

"So how do we prove it?" Skylar continues.

"Well, the best way is to show them something they'd never thought they'd see from someone like you, from your district." Hadrian answers. "The unexpected is what gets their attention."

"I thought we were just showing off for the Gamemakers." Kalvin suddenly interjects.

"Well, they can give you the weapons, but in the end it's the tributes that help expand your life."

"Ironic how the game of killing lies on making friends." Skylar says sarcastically.

Both men chuckle in unison. "We'll _you're_ off to a good start." Hadrian says as he takes a bite of garlic bread.

After dinner, everyone was dismissed to their rooms. Skylar folds her clothes and sets them atop the dresser while her dress is placed on a hanger in the closet. Changing into a silk top and pants, Skylar crawls into bed. The comforter providing warmth and a sense of security.

She manages to dose off easily, but when she wakes, it's still dark. The train still moving. She sits up listening closer, and she hears it, the sound of music.

The lilting notes of the piano, a sad, sweet lament. Bach, she thinks, but she's not sure. Wrapping herself in a robe she quietly pads down the corridor of the train toward a new car.

Hadrian is at the piano, completely lost in the melody he's playing. His expression is sad and forlorn, like the music. His playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the entrance, Skylar listens, enraptured. He's such an accomplished musician. He sits naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a solitary freestanding lam beside the piano. With the rest of the loge car in darkness, it's like he's in his own isolated little pool of light, untouchable . . . lonely in a bubble.

Skylar pads quietly towards him, enticed by the sublime, melancholy music. She's mesmerized, watching his long, skilled fingers as they find and gently press the keys. He glances up, his unfathomable green eyes bright, his expression unreadable. Skylar gaps and presses her thighs together.

"Sorry," she whispers. I didn't meant to disturb you."

A frown flits across his face.

"Surely, I should be saying that to you." He murmurs. He finishes playing and puts his hands on his legs.

Skylar notices he's wearing PJ pants. He runs his fingers through his hair and stands. His pants hang from his hips, in that way . . . dear god. Skylar's mouth goes dry as he casually strolls around the piano toward her. He has broad shoulders, narrow hips, and his abdominal muscles ripple as he walk. He really is stunning.

"You should be in bed." He admonishes.

"That was a beautiful piece. Bach?"

"Transcription of Bach, but it's originally an oboe concerto by Alessandro Marcello."

"I was exquisite, but very sad, such a melancholy melody."

His lips quirk in half a smile.

"How long have you been playing? You play beautifully." Skylar says.

"Since I was six."

"Oh. How old are you now?"

"Twenty-three." He answers.

Hadrian as a six-year-old boy . . . her mind conjures an image of a beautiful, copper-haired little boy with green eyes. A moppet-haired kid who plays sad music.

"Bed," he orders. "You'll be exhausted in the morning." He puts his hand under Skylar's chin and tips her head back, staring down at her. His eyes are intense as he examines her face.

He puts an arm around her and guides her back to the bedroom. Skylar surprises herself as she lets him remove her robe. He hangs it on the back of the door.

"Get into bed."

She climbs back into bed and pulls the comforter over her once again. He stands in the door until she settles down.

"Goodnight Skylar." He whispers with a smile.

Then he leaves her room, the door sliding shut behind him.

"Goodnight."


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting in the mansion's parlor area, Silk's knee nervously bounces up and down as she waits for her father to come in.

Looking around, a beautiful crystal chandelier hung suspended at the center of the vaulted ceilings. The thick gold-and-red chamber had thick velvet draperies spilling from tall windows, like motionless crimson waterfalls. Enormous tapestries hung over the walls. Marble floor-to-ceiling marbles pillars stood at the entrance to the study as though standing guard. Embroidered pillows and carpets lined the floor. A gathering of plants and a nude statuette of a voluptuous woman took up one window.

Staring at the carpeting, locked in a trance of shock, Silk rubbed the fabric of her skirts between her thumb and pointer finger. Her heart thundered in her chest, thundering like a caged bird. Her face felt warm with overwhelming emotions.

The sound of the door opening startles her to her feet.

"You have thirty minutes." A Peacekeeper says as her father walks in.

He opens his arms and Silk walks into them. She rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her breathing steady as her father rubs her back. She tries to let the warmth germinate through her, but it refused against the cold fear that infects her veins.

She doesn't let the thought of her father being the only person saying goodbye to her, to live. Instead, she shoves it away and tries to memorize every detail of him so she could take it wither her to the arena and remember why it is she's going to be doing those things.

He smelt of the smoke of the factory, a smell tied to a million different memories.

"Honey, listen to me, you can do this." He says as they sit on the couch. "You need to find someone whom you know will take you to the final level."

"Dad, these are people, not video game characters. It's not like they'll let me live if I fail at a task. I can't even handle a weapon." Silk retorts.

"Then train at the Training Center. Find someone or work with a trainer." Her father says.

"They're not going to help me."

"Find an alley then." Her father speaks to her, the determination in his eyes combined with the worry and fear to make then appear foggy.

For the rest of the time, Silk urgently listens to her father about finding an alley, going through the different herbs and poison plants she could use to fool others into thinking they're safe, showing the Gamemakers her intellectual advantage. Then when he's done with instructions about fuel, and weapons, the Peacekeeper comes to escort him out.

Silk has time for one final hug before her father is asked to leave.

The ride to the train is long given the streets are crowded with other cars and the station is swarming with cameras. Stagger doesn't look like he's shed a single tear, not that Silk even expected him. In fact, he seemed amused. Silk kept her head held high as they entered the train.

A moment after letting the cameras gobble up their image, the door slides shut and they're guided inside. The train's speed was faster than she anticipated, but it wasn't like she'd never ridden a train before, unlike Districts 9, 10, 11, and 12. The idea of them getting on something that goes 250 miles to the gallon amuses her.

Light flooded through the windows, light, bright, and brand new. There was no antique furniture or oil paintings, no antebellum heirlooms. This place looked more like a page out of a furniture catalog. Overstuffed couches and chairs and glass-topped tables, stacked with coffee able books. It was all so suburban, so new.

Silk stands in the middle of the car, staring at the gorgeous interior when she felt a hand wrap around her waist. She jostled as she felt tip of someone's nose trace over her neck.

"So babe, is it just you and me on this train? I hear we get out own chambers." Whispers a seductive voice.

Despite Silk's face registering her disgust, her cheeks flush. Nonetheless, she wrenches away and whirls to face Stagger; making sure to avoid gazing directly into those eyes. Instead she focused on the bridge between his nose, but as she was about to snap at him with an irritated mark, Tula suddenly walks up behind him.

"Nice to see you two getting acquainted, but please. Keep the sex to a minimum, we need to keep these sheets clean until we get to the Capital." She says.

"I don't see the problem in spilling a little blood before the games." He retorts shrugging his shoulders.

Looking to Silk, he licks the corner of his mouth, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Silk's cheeks deepen as she struggles to find the words to obliterate both of their thoughts. Instead of stuttering and making herself looking stupid, she scoffs in disgust and turns to scan the rest of the train car.

There was a large buffet lined with sweets ready to be eaten. Brownies, candies, fruits and pies and cakes all elaborately decorated with flowers, floral patterns and colored frosting.

"I wouldn't' eat anything that's the color purple." A voice speaks.

Startled, Silk retracts her hand and looks to see Vobmen with a glass of deep-red wine in one hand. Leaning against the doorframe leading to another car.

"The artificial flavoring makes it tastes like medicine." He smiles as he enters.

Silk twitches one corner of her mouth attempting to smile. She already liking Vobmen for not making an innuendo. Still, she kept her distance.

"Vobmen, you mentor for the games." He extends out his hand and Silk takes it with a firm shake.

"Silk Koune."

"Pleasure." He says.

"Likewise."

"Vobmen," Tula suddenly interjects. "this is Stagger." Motioning to him like a game show model. "Both seem eager to get to know one another."

Vobmen stares at Stagger as they shake hands.

"Alright you two, your chambers are at the end of the hall, get settled, shower, change, and then come out for dinner. We'll be recapping the reaping for the other districts. Get a feel for your competition."

_I'm sure Stagger would love to get a _feel_ of them_, Silk thinks.

Walking to her chamber, she makes sure to get there before Stagger could follow up closely behind. The door slides shut and Silk gasps at the room. It had its own walk-in closet, a private bathroom – thank god – and bedroom. The window shows the world streaming by, mixing into a smearing of colors.

Walking into the closet, it was lined with exquisite clothing that Silk had only seen the Capital people wear. There was an entire wall for just the shoes all of which were categorized by style. Pumps, Wedges, Mules, Platforms, Heel-less Ankle Strap Peep-Toe Platforms.

Overwhelmed buy how little she knew about fashion, Silk settled for a simple black sweatshirt, jeans and moccasins. Taking her hair out of its updo, she sighed a she felt her follicles relax and strain as he ran her fingers through it, massaging her scalp. Flipping it to one side, she folds the dress and places it in the top drawer of the dresser.

She keeps the bracelet her father made her, pulling the sleeve of the sweatshirt over it. Keeping a little piece of her father with her, Silk allows herself to feel grief as she runs her fingers over the smooth silver.

Stepping out to the lounge car, she found Tula talking with Vobmen, Stagger not in the room. Silk sighed and walked out, taking a seat on the plush couch. Her fingers trailed over the intricate floral pattern as she heard the door open. Stagger came out wearing a fitted white tank top and black jacket with jeans. And hipster glasses.

Silk's cheeks grow warm at how admittingly attractive he appeared.

His eyes flick to her and he slyly smiles. Silk rolls her eyes and draws her attention to outside pretending to be distracted by something, even though the world was too blurry to gaze at anything.

Silk goes rigid as she feels the couch sink down behind her, and a breath tickles her neck.

"You should probably know that I _love_ it when girls play hard to get." His hand traces down her shoulder.

Goosebumps trail up her spine and she gets up and moves towards Vobmen, glaring over her shoulder. Stagger only smiles, following her.

"Come on guys, we'll be eating while recapping the Reapings." Vobmen calls and Skylar immediately she feels relief.

Walking into the dining car, a large screen TV was placed at the head of the table so everyone could view it. Everyone took their seats at the enormous rectangular claw-foot table it was dark wood, almost black, and there were intricate designs, like vines, carved into the legs.

The table was covered with an elaborate feast. A while roast pig, with an apple stuck in its mouth. A standing rib roast with little paper puffs on the top of each rib, sat next to a mangled-looking goose covered with chestnuts. There were bowls of gravies and sauces, and creams, rolls and breads, collards and beets and spreads Silk couldn't name. And at the end, pulled pork sandwiches, which looked particularly out of place among the other dishes.

Since it was self-serve, Silk grabbed her porcelain plate and loaded it with as much food as she thought she could stomach. She made sure to take a seat next to Tula while Stager sat across from her.

"Alright," Vobmen says. "they've managed to take the footage and staggered it together."

He presses the power button and the TV flicks for a moment before District 3's logo pops to the middle of the screen. One by one, they see the other reapings, the names called, any volunteers that step forward, or who don't. Examining the faces, only a few stand out to Silk. A voluptuous blonde with a perfect hourglass figure and emerald green eyes from District 1, a lean-muscled Goth boy from 5, a short-haired girl from 7, and a fairly pretty girl from 9.

She had ebony hair that fell past her shoulders, ending in soft tendrils. Her dress help bring out the hazel in her eyes, which contain a fierce determination behind a glassy wall of nervousness. Silk looks to Stagger as he licks his bottom. Her partner was fairly attractive and by the way he looked to her, he appeared to be some sort of admirer. From the back, someone, assuming her sister had broken down in tears.

After District 12 is showed, they cut to the anthem and the program ends.

"Imagine if her sister was chosen." Stagger suddenly pipes up. "She'd be dead before the games even started."

"Looking weak and feeble can also be a great weapon and deceiving." Vobmen practically challenges him.

Silk doesn't say anything as she pokes at her plate. She thinks back to how the mother had comforted her weeping daughter. Stroking her hair and cuddling her head. What would her mother had been like?

Stagger and Vobmen's conversation drifted off as she thought back to the years without her mother. It damaged her trust severely. If she couldn't trust her own mother to take care of he, how could she trust anyone else? It's not like she was a complete loner. A few girls at school reignited her hope in trusting others, but still she was cautious with others.

A large gnarled place inside Silk hated her for her abandonment, her neglect. Silk had taken a step back from her mother, put up a wall to protect herself from needing her, and nothing will ever be the same between them.

Something inside Silk hoped that her mother had felt tremendous guilt and crushing grief when she saw Silk's face on the screen. Her father told her how a mother never forgets.

Hopefully it'll play true when the Reapings play in the Capital.

But now she was going to die without anything ever being set right.

And what's even weirder, scarier even, Silk was okay with that.

Aggravated with the mixture of emotions, Silk drops her fork. It clangs loudly against her plate as she pushes up from her seat.

"Silk?" Vobmen calls.

Ignoring him, Silk walks through the door and retreats to her room. She locks herself there for the rest of the day.

She debates one whether to emerge as the train stops at a platform to refill on gas. But she decides to stay to avoid running into Stagger again. She opens her window and takes a few deep breaths of semi-fresh air as the smell of gasoline intermixes with the air. The smell similar to that of the factory where she worked with her father. Shutting the window, the train takes off again.

For a while, Silk sits at the armchair posted next to a mahogany writing desk and stares out the train window, wishing she could open it again. As twilight bleeds across the sky, she sees the lights of another district. She twirls the silver bracelet around and around her wrist. Looking closer at it, her father had engraved her initials on the smooth inside.

Imagining her home, with its shutters drawn tight, her father sitting at the table, alone. The vacant chair at the other end torturing him. Will he even be able to eat supper? Unless Ms. Mayble came over, it probably was left untouched on his plate.

Imagining the whole thing makes Silk ache with loneliness. It feels like it's been forever ago when Silk was working with her father in the factory.

Looking at the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, it reads 8:55 p.m. It's not that late, but suddenly Silk's drained. So tired. She walks into her bathroom and stripping off her clothes, she dumps them onto the floor as she steps into the shower.

There was something about warm water and being alone that made it easier to think.

Silk could feel the tension slide off her shoulders and swirl down the drain with the grime and the sweat. Her muscles relaxed, and closed up in the small warm space, she felt safe. Shutting off the water and stepping out of the showers, she wrapped her hair in a towel and pulled on a fluffy pink robe. She left the steamy, warm bathroom, huddling into her robe as she passed through the archway and into the room. Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, she rifles through it, pulling out a pair of pink-and-black-striped pajama shorts, and matching T-shirt.

Burrowing into the sheets, she wrapped herself into a cocoon. Hoping that if she slept, it will all have been a bad dream, and she will wake to her father rousing her for the day at the factory.

It she were to cry, now would be the time. No one will listen to her, and she had the privacy. And yet, no tears come.

She's too numb to cry.

Giving up, she rolls to face the window and looks at the full moon. Slowly the train rocks her to sleep.

In the morning, cool morning daylight streams into the room through the grey curtains. Not remembering she'd drawn them, Silk figured they must be automatic. A quiet tapping at her door is followed by Tula's voice. "Come on Silk! It's time to get up. Breakfast is ready."

Moaning in annoyance, Silk plops the pillow over her head. After five more minutes, she lazily crawls out of bed. Pulling her hair into a messy bun, Silk pulls on simple purple t-shirt and yoga pants.

They weren't far from the Capital now. Silk feels her stomach churn at the thought of being tossed over to the stylists, dressing in some stupid costume and riding out looking like a fool in front of the Capital and the districts.

Upon entering the dining car, Stagger and Vobmen were in the middle of a conversation. Stagger breaking off bits of bread and dipping it in hot chocolate.

"Well then you'd freeze to death." Vobmen says.

"But then I'd build a fire."

"That's a good way to signal the enemy where you are."

Silk slowly approaches, her eyes flicking between the men and meals.

"Good morning, beautiful." Stagger says.

Despite yesterday's 'introductions', Silk half smiles a she rolls her eyes and gets her plate. She settles on two buttermilk pancakes and a side of French toast. Sitting down at the head of the table, she keeps her legs pressed together to avoid touching Stagger.

"So, anything you want to talk about?" Vobmen asks, taking a sip of coffee.

"You two seem fine. I'll just listen." She replies.

"Silk, don't be afraid to ask." He presses.

"I don't _know_ what to ask." She snaps back. "I've never handled a weapon before, the only thing I do know how to do is fix things. And I don't think I can save myself by piecing together some stupid invention."

"Silk I can teach you if you want." Stagger suddenly chimes in.

Silk looks to him in irritation, but softens when she sees the seriousness in his face. There was no trace of the flirting boy from yesterday and for a moment, Silk wonders if this is the same boy.

"What do you know?" she asks.

"I can teach you knife throwing." He replies, the seriousness still there. "You know how to handle any other weapons?"

Silk shakes her head, lowering her gaze to her plate. "You don't learn much about weapons when working in a factory."

Stagger leans to rest his elbows on the table. "Yeah, you worked with you dad right?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's an advantage." He goes on. "You probably know weapons inside and out."

"They use old weapons, not lasers or guns or anything." Silk denies.

"Who knows, maybe if you show how talented and smart you are, they'll add something that'll be to your advantage." Stagger says.

Silk looks to him in surprise at his sudden change in personality. It was weird, but it somehow made her feel relieved to know that there was something underneath that sex-obsessed demeanor of his.

"And just real quick, a basic defense move. If you ever run into any trouble, just go for the groin, then throat. Knee the groin a couple times, then grab the throat." He advises.

"I thought _I_ was the one who's supposed to give the advice." Vobmen chimes in.

"I'm just saying."

Silk chuckles. "Thanks."

"And if things go well, maybe for us it'll be throat, throat, groin." Stagger winks.

"And you just ruined it." Silk snaps, dropping her utensils onto her plate and getting up.

She heard Stagger laugh, but she wasn't amused. As she dumps her meal down the garbage shoot, suddenly the car goes dark.

Looking around, they've entered the tunnel that runs up through the mountain into the Capital. The mountains a natural border barrier between the Capital and the eastern districts. It's nearly impossible to enter except through the tunnels.

Silk and Stagger are silent as the train speeds along. The tunnel goes on and on and Silk thinks of the tons of rock separating them from the sky. The train finally starts to slow and suddenly bright light floods the compartment. They can't help it. Both Silk and Stagger run to the windows to see what they've only seen on television, the Capital, the ruling city of Panem.

The cameras overview of its grandeur lie true.

Its magnificent, glistening buildings lie in a rainbow of hues that tower into the air, the shiny cars that roll down the wide paved streets, the oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces who have never missed a meal. All the colors seem artificial, the pinks too deep, and greens too bright, the yellows painful to the eyes.

The people begin to point at them eagerly as they recognize a tribute rolling into the city. Silk steps away from the window, sickened by their excitement, knowing they can't wait to watch us die.

Her mother, can't wait to watch her die.

Yet Stagger holds his ground, actually waving and smiling at the gawking crowd. He only stops when the train pulls into the station.

"A good way to break the ice." Vobmen says, getting up from his spot at the table.

"Alright everyone!" Tula pipes. "Gather your things!"

As Stagger walks off to his chamber, Silk steps close to the window again. Peeking out she can see the other trains already pulled in. Each one distinct by the District emblem on their fronts. Staring directly across from them, Silk's eyes widen as she sees the curly-haired girl from 9.

She was stepping down wearing a black leather jacket, jeans and sneakers. Her hair flowed out from underneath a knit beanie. She stops when she reaches the final step, turning back to find her tribute partner following behind her. Wearing a snapback, a flannel and jeans, he seemed like the average All-American boy.

Silk's heart jarred in her chest when the girl's eyes met hers. Silk stumbled back. She couldn't have been looking directly at her, certainly, but still.

Silk grasps for her father's bracelet as Tula comes to escort her out.

Taking a deep breath, she follows the Vobmen and Stagger out of the train.


	5. Chapter 5

Soaking in the hot water, her legs stretched out in front, Skylar inhaled the freshening scent of cucumber melon. One woman named Ganda - who has tan skin, long black hair and eyes of a cat – scrubs her feet with a loofah sponge, massaging away knots and tension. She lathed on a lotion that at first felt heated, but slowly grew warm as she scrubbed.

"I guess I should thank you for shaving." She says. "Spared both of us the pain of waxing you."

Skylar weakly smiles back. Her top lip still lightly tingling from where she removed her peach fuzz. She'd been with the prep team for nearly three hours. Lotioning her arms and legs, shaping her nails, smoothing her hair and removing any unwanted hair.

"And I have to say you have such perfect eyebrows." She adds.

"Thank you." Skylar speaks politely.

Zenski, a man with prickly red spikey hair and kohl eyeliner files her nails into perfect squares, then coating with a clear base coat. Scrolling designs covered much of his skin. His chest, sculpted and smooth like a polished statue, depicted minutely detailed tattoos of sailing ships, tossing waves, and foam. A long-haired mermaid graced his existing shoulder, her scaly tail sweeping the length of his arm. An entire portion of the sea epic vanished under the fabric of his shirt.

Then washing her hair was a woman named Jolie with her skin dyed a pale pink with silver intricate swirls drifting down her shoulder. Her hair was a deep red, dripping down in an endless waterfall of curls.

"Alright sweetie," Zenski says. "you can get out now."

Skylar presses her palms to the sides of the tub, careful not to ruin his work on her nails. Pushing up, she nearly slips from the oils, but gains her footing and takes the three steps out of the tub. They hand her a towel but once she's dry, they toss it aside, leaving her standing completely naked.

She resists the urge to cover herself as they circle her and inspect her like a turkey on Thanksgiving. They step back and whisper back and forth, as if she can't hear them. She can't but still it feels rude.

"Is it really that bad?" Skylar says purposely sounding innocent.

"Oh no, no, no dear!" Zenski steps forward. "You're actually one of the better ones. The other girl last year was such a bimbo."

Skylar quietly giggles as Jolie walks forward, pulling forward a section of Skylar's hair over her shoulder. She places it between her middle and pointer finger, running them down to the ends, stopping just below Skylar's breasts.

She doesn't say anything until she steps back. "I think she could go for an inch and a half."

"Well let's leave that up to Hanyo." Jolie chimes in. She turns to Skylar. "Not that she has much work to do on you. Do you ever wear makeup?"

"Um, no. I like to scratch my eyes and cry freely." Skylar amuses.

They laugh and as Jolie and Ganda leave, Zenski turns to her and says. "We'll get Hanyo for you."

Then Skylar's left alone in the white room. Instead of reaching for the towel, Skylar simply pats her thighs and traces her fingertips along the smoothness of her skin. Her nails are perfectly shaped and wink at her in the light. Bringing forward her hair, the ends cover her breasts, making her feel less exposed.

The door slides open and a woman in her mid-thirties enters. Relief fills Skylar, at the sight of her. Not knowing if she'd be able to survive with a male.

She had to be Hanyo.

Her bohemian curly hair reached her collarbone, a wheat-brown color as opposed to the wild and crazy dyes others have done. She had tattoos done in intricate lace patterns, and they stretch across her shoulder to mimic the neckline of a dress, then trailing down her sides and arms. Stopping at her waistline, her legs were bare. She wore a simple periwinkle spaghetti-strap top and pencil skirt. Her eyes were just like a cat's. The pupils black slits and an icy green that literally shivered Skylar.

She was like an exotic beauty.

"Hi Skylar. I'm Hanyo your stylist." Her voice was soft and an accent, but it was hard to decipher as her English had taken over much of the originality of it.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Skylar replies politely. "I'll admit I'm not feeling too good about myself right now."

Hanyo smiles. "Oh stop. You're beautiful, honey. Just give me a minute, okay?"

Skylar obediently nods as Hanyo circles her. Hands behind her back, her eyes trailing up and down her body, and Skylar fidgeted nervously; feeling like a bird in a cage being watched by a complacent and calculating cat.

"I saw you had a waterfall braid I your hair. Who did it?" she asks.

"My sister."

"It was beautiful. It really shaped your face well and showed an innocent disposition." she says.

"Thank you."

"Have you ever done anything with your hair? As in dying it?" she asks.

Skylar's heart triples in speed, images of pinks, purples, pastels in her hair, but she answered in a steady voice. "No, I feel there's no reason given I live in District 9."

Hanyo stops in front of her and nods. "Well, why don't you put on a robe and we'll talk."

She hands Skylar a silk robe and follows her through a hallway leading to a parlor room. There was a fireplace on the far side, outlined in white tiles, a round table in the center of the room and two Victorian couches facing one another on each side of the table. The walls were a mauve color with thick velvet draperies hanging blankly where there would be windows. A monstrously huge oil painting, a portrait of a terrifyingly beautiful woman with glowing gold eyes, hung over the fireplace. Atop the mantel, an antique clock that reads ten to noon.

Skylar's footsteps went mute as she stepped onto a plush carpet barefoot. Built in one arm of each couch, there was a small square with colorful buttons. Hanyo walks over, presses the red button and a fire blossoms from the center of the logs.

"Please sit." Hanyo gestures to the couch.

Skylar smoothes the robe and takes her seat across from Hanyo. She presses a green button and the top of the table splits open and up rises a tray with lunch. A plate of Fettuccini Alfredo sprinkled with parmesan cheese and a side of Italian sausage. A glass of strawberry water, and for dessert, a cinnamon bun drizzled with gooey icing.

Not wanting to be rude, Skylar picks up a fork and twirls the noodles on, then popping it in her mouth. The sweet and cheesy sauce rewarded her mouth with a glorious taste. After she devours half the meal, as she's taking a sip of her water, Hanyo speaks.

"So tell me about your style. What would you describe it as?"

Skylar looks to her in surprise. "Um, I thought the costumes were to reflect the districts."

"It doesn't mean I can't incorporate a little bit of your style to it. After all, you're the real star of the show."

"I'm just representing my district."

"But their eyes are all on you, and I want them to remember you as _you_. Not the girl from District 9." Hanyo says.

"Um, well. I guess I keep things calm. I have a very calm style. I don't wear many bright colors, but very earth-tone. A lot of greens, soft blues and purples. And I don't wear makeup a lot either." Skylar explains.

"I see. I like that. You have a very exquisite natural beauty. And I wouldn't want to mask that with layers upon layers of makeup."

Skylar smiles. "So, how are you going to make the costumes for 9? I know it's not the most extravagant district."

"Actually, instead of focusing on the purpose of 9, we looked deeper, and discovered the different types and properties of grain. And one that we – me and my partner Genie – discovered was a flower-type grain that we thought would suite you well."

She pulls out a folder from under the tray, opens it and pulls out a photo handing it to Skylar.

"It's called Amaranth. It's a grain that is said to represent healing and protection."

Looking at the photo, the plant had a reddish pigment in the stems and leaves. The plant bears many flowers with acute bracts. The seeds vary in color.

"To the ancient Greeks, the amaranth was a symbol for immortality. They made crowns from it, since they believed that anyone who wore such a crown would gain fame and fortune. They also decorated tombs and images of gods with amaranth." Hanyo explains.

Skylar examines the picture. Healing and protection to her meant the healing of her family if she were to die in the arena. And the protection she would give them as their guardian angel.

"Another we feel would suite you, is the Quinoa." Hanyo hands her another photo. "And it is said to represent health, and psychic ability."

Skylar looks to her quirking a questionable eyebrow. Looking at the photo, the plant had the color mixture between a very faded red and browns. Overall calming colors.

"Now these are the more feminine grains that I thought would suit you. What do you think?" Hanyo asks

"I like the Amaranth better." Skylar answers.

Hanyo smiles. "Excellent choice. Now, we've narrowed down the others for Kalvin, down to Barley and Rye. Both are very good grains in representation. Barley stands for Love and Offering,"

Skylar's cheeks grow warm and her heart jars in her chest.

"And Rye represents Loyalty and Fidelity."

Like tiny knives the words lacerated at Skylar's heart, instantly flashing back to Kalvin's admitting his love to her the moment they got on the train. He even sounded like he'd be faithful to her in the end. Until the end.

The Barley crop is a tall grass with a hairy stem which stands erect and produces spikelets at the head.

Rye grass is bright green and has a fine texture. It is also dense, fast growing and prolific. Rye grass has the ability to germinate quickly because seeding requires no soil preparation.

"We've reached an impasse on the voting. I want the Barley, while Genie likes the Rye. So we decided to let you be the deciding factor." Hanyo tells her.

Looking at both pictures, and with their definitions in mind, she scanned over the pictures. They looked very similar in looks. But it was their definitions that drove her decisions.

"I chose the Barley."

"I thought you would." Hanyo says. "Now, have you ever heard of an ombre?"

Silk grits her teeth as he feels the hot wax on her legs, then the strip of paper seconds later.

"Ready?" Tiska asks. "This is the last one."

Silk nods her head, placing the towel between her teeth. She grunts as the final swathe of her leg hair is uprooted in a painful jerk. She relaxes, sighing as her sin starts to tingle, and slowly fade into a raw pink. Reminding her of a turkey ready to be cooked on Thanksgiving.

"Alright sweetie, here you go." Tiska says as Silk feels her apply a soothing lotion to her raw legs. Silk sighs and rests her head against the pillow. "Relief right?"

Silk forces herself to smile and chuckle. As she lets herself be massaged she can't help but look to Tiska. She had lavender hair with bangs and white streaks that start behind a black headband. Her eyelashes were unnaturally long yet curved into perfect circles with a rhinestone at the tips. Her skin was a shade of peach and had perfectly shaped lips, no doubt skin surgery.

When Tiska finishes she helps Silk shift to a seating position. "Alright sweetie, let's get you to the bath." Then she whips off Silk's robe.

Silk takes her hand and guides her to a large Jacuzzi tub that's three steps down to the bottom. She sits at the edge and is asked to lean her head back. When she does, she feels the cool surface of a skink brace her neck. A man with a jagged peaked cut hairstyle and hipster glasses walks up and smiles.

"Hi sweetie. My name's Mtindo, and I'll be doing your hair." He says.

"Nice to meet you." Silk politely responds.

Looking at all of them together, they looked like a packet of Skittles. Without another word, he starts the hose and starts to wet her hair. Silk sighs as Mtindo massages her scalp with a sweet smelling shampoo. She feels someone else take her hand and start to file her nails. While her body soaks in the tub of suds, a third set of hands take her ankle and starts to trim and paint her toenails.

Minutes pass by, hours, and they massage, paint and style her. Nearly falling asleep, the luxury ended too soon. Her eyes fluttered open when she felt the water draining.

"Almost thought you dosed off on us." Mtindo jokes.

Silk forces a smile as she's asked to lean forward. She feels Mtindo wrap a towel around the length of her hair and squeeze to remove moisture. By now her legs felt normal, still slightly sore, but the tingling and stinging had long ceased. As she feels the towel pat her scalp she looks to her nails and found them in perfect oval shapes.

"Alright honey just step out and we'll dry you off." Tiska says.

Silk obeys and steps out, and allows Tiska and a third member of the prep team towel down her legs and arms while Mtindo cleans up. Once they're done, they all step back to admire their work. Two of the three of them still armed with tweezers and scissors for any last minute adjustments.

"I think she looks good." Tiska says smiling. "Gaya will love her!"

"Just stay here and we'll go get him." Mtindo adds as they turn and head for the door.

Silk catches the third person who's name didn't come up. Or she just wasn't paying attention. She had mint pastel hair with lavender layers that reached her mid-back. She had a petite figure and practically scurried away with the others. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Silk managed to catch her eye color, a dark nearly brown nearly black color.

Leaving Silk in the pale room, the door shuts noisily behind them. Looking around the plain room, white tiles boxed her in, nearly making it impossible to look anywhere else with the glare of the lights. Looking back to her nails, Silk can see the tips painted while the rest of the nail remained blank. Her skin was like satin from the waxing and her hair felt like, silk.

Soon a door slides open and Silk looks to find a man in his twenties walking towards her. Compared to her packet of Skittles prep team, he seemed more of like a gorgeous model misplaced in the Capitol by accident.

He had incredible cyan blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. However, instead of a simple comb over to the side like the preppy side part, it kind of flows back across his head. It's definitely a classic style and can be pulled off without much product. He was muscled and Silk's cheeks reddened as she saw a faint six-pack imprint poking through his fitted black V-neck. With the dark wash jeans, and sneakers, he seemed so, normal Silk was taken aback.

"Hello Silk." He spoke in a soft, calm tone. Extending out his hand, Silk took it with a shake. "I'm Gaya."

"Nice to meet you." Silk replies, a goofy smile playing on her lips.

"So I'm going to be your stylist, and maybe after I'm done here we can talk about your costume for the opening chariot ride. Okay?"

Silk nods and allows Gaya to walk around her in a circle. Too distracted by his angular face features, Silk didn't even bother to cover her chest.

"I want to ask you, at the Reaping, who did your dress?" he asks.

"Um, my neighbor did it. She made it." Silk answers.

"Ah, I see. Is pin your favorite color?" he traces his fingertips along he shoulder and Silk has to fight to hold back a shudder that rattles her shoulders.

"Yes, I love it."

"Ah." Gaya says. As he comes back to her front, she crosses his arm and tilts his head to the side. "Well, why don't you put a robe on and we'll go talk."

Pulling on a robe, Silk follows Gaya cautiously to a room with gorgeous antique, pale Victorian furniture. Bordering a glass oval table with intricate gold lining, was a divan, an armchair with a high back and a loveseat. Between the divan and loveseat, poised on glass tables were two frilly lamps with playful figures suspending the shades. All of which stood on top of an intricately designed rug.

"Please take a seat." Gaya says as he sits in the armchair. Silk in turn took a seat on the divan. "Are you hungry?"

Silk shakes her head, but asks for a drink. Gaya presses a button on the side of the chair and in an instant, a door opens and a girl in a maid uniform comes in with a pink lemonade. A lemon on the rim of the glass and a curly straw twisting through the ice.

"Thank you." She says and the girls gives her a soft smile.

What it must be like to have food come to you at the press of a button? While she and her father had to work for several hours a day with minimum wage and while others had to spend hours to commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were easy to come by. Once again her thoughts are brought to her mother sitting in the lap of luxury while she and her father had to slave over a conveyer belt system.

"How despicable we must seem to you, huh?" Gaya asks.

Silk looks up and takes in the feeling of her facial features, she must've been glaring. "Oh no, it's just-"

"It's alright. You don't need to explain to me." Gaya says as he holds up a hand to stop her. "Just know I'm here to help you."

"To make me look pretty?"

"To make an impression." Gaya says back. "Now I know that your district is specialized in technology, electronics."

"Yeah, not the most luxurious district." Silk retorts, she swirled the pink liquid with her straw. The ice clinked against her glass.

"Well if you look at the basic picture. But if you looks deeper, there's really much more to your principal than you give credit for." Silk looks to him in confusion and with curiosity. Gaya smiles. "Let's get you ready."

Within the next few hours, Silk's dressed in the most unique yet interesting costume she's seen. Albeit with her light blue powdered skin and covered from head to toe in grey armor. The armor is mostly seamless, the only distinct parts being his knee-high boots, small pauldrons, and what appear to be "sleeves" that cover her forearms only, not her upper arms or hands. Silk's armor is covered in complex patterns of blue computer circuitry that glows bright cyan at times. A similar glow emits from his boots and sleeves. Though most of the circuitry designs are seemingly random, certain patterns on her waist create the silhouette of a belt.

Apart from the powder blue on her skin, her face was relatively clear of makeup, with a few highlights here and there. The color of her lips a stone gray. Her hair is down and was straightened, then a headband with a similar color of her suit was crowned upon her head.

"This way the audience will recognize you and your district." Gaya says as he helps adjust the circuitry of the suit.

Silk can't help but smile as she tries to picture herself in the reflection of the chariot. She looks up and sees Stagger arriving with a similar costume, the blue of his eyes more distinct with the mix of the glow from the costume. As he walks up, he smiles that sly smile.

"Hm, look at you." He speaks the tip of his tongue flicking the corner of his mouth.

Silk rolls her eyes as she continues to look at herself in the reflection of the chariot. Suddenly she freezes when she feels his arms wrap around her waist. His lips tickling the top of her ear.

"I wish I could've seen you change." He smirks.

Silk wrenches herself free and was about to snap back, but something stopped her. Looking past Stagger, Silk walks past him to see her. The girls from District 9.

The creature before her didn't resemble a girl, but a humanoid representation of the grain in her district. Layers of shimmering rose pink-pigment draped and clung to her slight though tall frame. A crown of a pretty flower encircled her head, a veil of the fabric covering her face, like the veil of a bride. The fabric glows softly, so light yet thick you couldn't see _through_ it, but the slightest movement in the air sent a ripple up her body. Like the way a field of grain shifts in the wind.

As she walks to meet her partner tribute, the fabric whispered against the floor. As they met up, the other stylists compliment her, and she angles her head down bashfully. The lacelike curl of her lashes lay folded down, fringing closed lids, creating spidery shadows against her cheeks. Trails of gently curling hair, thick and raven black, tumbled to her lower back. Near the tips, Silk could see they were lighter. Upon closer inspection, the length of her hair seemed to fade into the lightness of her tips. It seemed so simple, but natural. In fact, it made her look more mature, womanly. On her neck was a cross.

Unknowingly, silk turns to Stagger who is wide-eyed, but that sly smirk still on his face. He looks to her as if she's his next meal, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Silk smacks his arm. "Hey, pay attention."

He smirks. "Jealous?"

"Who would be?" She snaps back.

The opening music suddenly begins. It's easy to hear, blasted around the Capitol. The massive doors slide open, revealing the crowd-lined streets. The ride lasts about twenty minutes and ends up at the City Circle, where they will welcome the tributes, play the anthem, and escort them into the Training Center, which will be the home/prison until the Games.

District 1 tributes ride out in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. They look beautiful, spray-painted silver, in tasteful tunics glittering with jewels. District 1 makes luxury items for the Capitol. The roar of the crowd is deafening. They're always favored.

District 2 gets into position to follow them. In no time at all, they are approaching the door and Silk can see the overcast sky turning into orange and purple mix. A second stylist turns on Stagger's costume and we mount our chariot, our horses an aqua green to match the lines of the costume. Soon my nerves begin to crawl and the blood roars in Silk's ears to drown out the music. He motions to keep their heads forward and with a thumbs-up, they ride out into the city.

While the attention isn't what Gaya had anticipated, but still Silk can see they've gathered a good portion of their attention. Silk, a little overwhelmed by it all just lets her gaze trail across the crowd of multicolored people cheering and pointing. Remembering her father's probably watching, Silk grips the side of the chariot with her right hand, and begins waving, remembering to put on her best smile. The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into her system and she soon can't suppress her excitement.

A few people of the crowd are going nuts, waving and clapping as District 3 passes them by. For the first time since her arrival, Silk feels a flicker of hope rising in her chest. Surely, there must be a sponsor who wants to help her. With a little extra help, maybe she could have a chance.

As the beginning chariots enter the City Circle, the rest of them ride out. The roar returns and Silk turns her head, but the chariots looks too small to decipher who they're cheering for. Looking up on the large TV screen Silk sees, again the face of the girl from 9.

With the wind of the chariot, her dress ripples and flows, billowing out behind her. The veil falls from her face and Silk is floored by how she looks. The makeup, while minimal, made her cheekbones appear high and regal. Her skin held the tone of wheat, healthy and smooth and her hair, dark, massy waves of silk, seemed to float about her like a black halo.

She was so beautiful, yet deceivingly innocent.

Certainly she gained the attention with 10, 11, and 12 behind her.

"I think you've got some competition for my affections." Stagger teases.

The twelve chariots fill the loop of the Circle. On the buildings surrounding it, every window is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. The last chariot pulls right up to the mansion of the president, and they come to a halt. The music ends with a flourish.

The president welcomes them officially from the balcony above them.

As Skylar listens, she can still feel the penetrating gaze of the other tributes as she and Kalvin are getting more than their fair share of on-screen time. She feels for Kalvin's hand, her fingers braising his knuckles, and in seconds their fingers intertwine together. Skylar risks a glance, and finds him looking at her, smiling as his eyes flick around across her face. Skylar's gaze returns forward grinning as she will her cheeks to stay calm.

When the cameras cut to each of the tributes, she notices that on once screen, she and Kalvin remain while the other on the other side of the president's balcony stays set on District 3. Skylar had to admit, they looked incredible. Like futuristic beings, or characters out of a Syfy television show. The female tribute, caught Skylar's attention.

Something about the looks in her face, she appeared so, independent. Strong. Something Skylar admired in any girl. The lighting in her costume highlighted her face well and definitely showed a determination yet mischievous impulsiveness. Her hair was beautifully long with gray streaks, and when the wind would blow, it waved and fanned about her head in such a grace. It was her eyes, though, almost goddess-like in essence that held her, as well as the crowd, completely transfixed. Fringed with dark lashes, twin wells of icy green trapped them. She notices her face on the screen, but instead of flashing a smile, she continues to pay attention to the president's speech.

Skylar's eyes flick back to herself for a brief moment before facing forward. Minutes later though, she leans slightly forward to peek at the District 3 tribute. Within seconds, their eyes meet again. Skylar's heart lumps in her throat, so she swallows it back; yet she can see the startled look in the girl's eyes as they widen for a split second before blinking. Silk watches as the girl from 9 gives her a small smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through her.

They resume their positions when the anthem plays.

The cameras do their best to do a quick cut around to each pair of tributes, but they hold on Districts 3 and 9 chariots as they parade around the Circle one final time and disappearing into the Training Center.

The doors haven't shut as Skylar and Kalvin are engulfed by their prep teams, who are nearly unintelligible as they babble out praise. As Skylar glances around, she notices a lot of other tributes shooting her dirty looks. Another half of them switching between her and District 3. It's clear both of them have outshone them all, but this only makes Skylar tally District 3 as a bigger threat. And yet she can't help but smile as she and the girl from 3 shared a brief connection of knowing they looked better than the rest.

As they step down from their chariot with wheat colored horses, Skylar realizes she's still holding onto Kalvin. She flexes her fingers and he releases her hand. She wipes away the small sweat that materialized on her palm.

"You looked great." Kalvin compliments.

Skylar smiles, "Thanks, you too."

"No I mean, you looked, _incredible_." Skylar looks to him, and the genuine looks in his eyes made her feel weak in the knees, and her cheeks warm. "they loved you out there."

Skylar scrambles to make words as she knows what he means. "I'm sure they loved you to. I mean come on, you look amazing as well."

"Don't try to butter me up." he diminishes. "You clearly beat me in the beauty contest."

"It's not really about beauty. Your personality will get you farther than me when the interviews come up." Skylar retorts.

Kalvin doesn't say anything as he adjusts the cape of his costume that mimics armor from medieval times. Not knowing what else to say, Skylar cups his hands that were gathering the cape, placing one hand on his arm. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. Then unplanned, she's taken away by Hanyo and her prep team.

As they approach the Training Center, Skylar looks back to see Kalvin staring after her. With a perfectly timid smile, Skylar turns back and walks for the elevator.


	6. Chapter 6

The Training Center has a specific tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. This'll substitute as their home before the actual games. Each district has an entire floor to themselves, just press the number for you district.

Skylar rarely ever rode in an elevator, so when the things moves, she grips Kalvin's arm before the ride smoothes. Feeling similar to sea-sickness creeps into her stomach and Skylar has to breathe slowly before they reach their floor. She wobbles as she regains her footing, a slight vertigo feeling as they walk down the hall to their rooms.

"I have to admit," Astrid says as they walk. "that was adorable of you of you to hold Kalvin's hand Skylar. "

Skylar half smiles and lower her head.

They walk into the room for 9 and Kalvin and Skylar gasp and awe in unison. Tiered crystal chandeliers were dripping from the ceiling. A family room was at the back with velvet plush couches surrounding a table and placed in front of a fireplace with a large TV bolted above it. Tall, glass doors were thrown open; the breeze carried the scent of gardenias, which were arranged in tall silver vases, artfully placed on the tabletops. To their right was a study room with more exquisite furniture and draperies on the wall. Upstairs were the bedrooms and a library, all eager to be explored later. Further in, to the left was a hallway leading to a dining room, to the right, a formal living room.

Sitting in one of the armchairs in the family room, Hadrian held a glass of wine while reading a novel in his free hand. At the sound of the door, his head looked up and he smiled. He sets the glass aside and shuts the book.

"Now there are my tributes." He speaks as he rises.

Skylar, surprisingly overjoyed to see him, given it's been a good handful of hours, she hurries her steps and runs into his open arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck she lets out giggles she didn't think she had. His arms wrap around her waist and she can feel his smile on her shoulder.

"You were amazing." Hadrian compliments as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Skylar smiles as she sidesteps, letting Kalvin and Hadrian shake hands. Exchanging a compliment then a simple thank you.

"Alright everyone!" Astrid says as she claps her hands. "Now why don't you two get settled in and dinner will be ready in an hour."

Skylar nods and leads Kalvin up the stairs. Doing her best to ignore the look he was giving her and Hadrian.

Walking into her room, Skylar gapes at its beauty, and design that seemed to suit her personality. After taking a quick shower, and pulling on sweatpants and a t-shirt, Skylar let's her hair air-dry as she examines her room. The walls a peaceful, calm color with naturist wall ornaments and an entire wall of her room was replaced with a screen. Looking at it in confusion, Skylar picks up the remote on the nightstand. She feels a pinch on her middle fingers and quickly tosses it to her other hand.

A small drop of blood seeps from her finger, and flipping the remote over she finds a small pinprick needle had been the culprit. It retracts back into the remote, and when concealed, a red bulb glows at the top of the remote.

Pressing one of the two silver squares that occupied the remote, the screen suddenly clicks into her bedroom view at home. A sob chokes at Sky's throat as she tries to think of the angle. It was positioned where you would be standing in her doorway, peering into her room. Skylar lets a couple tears escape her eyes as she clicks the remote again. This time it was Oliver's tent, Oliver was kneading dough while people strode by.

Panic coursing through her, she steps near it and speaks, "Oliver?"

He doesn't look up to her, doesn't even acknowledge her. It wasn't until she saw the same woman wearing an old leather jacket and hunting boots walk past that she realized this was probably some memory on replay.

Clicking again she scrolled through several familiar rooms and some she dreamed off, until she reached the one image that nearly drove her to tears.

The sun peaked over the horizon. The deep blue darkness had since lightened, evidence that the dawn was doing its best to push back the curtain of night.

The grain fields of her family's property.

Skylar released more tears as she mounted the two steps to the window. Birds chirped and the grain swayed in the breeze, just as he dress did for the opening ceremony. Over in the corner, the mother doe and her fawn were grazing on the plants. Puffs of their breath billowing in front of their noses.

Glancing at her door, Skylar sees it shut, hopefully locked. Blinking a few times, she allows her legs to collapse beneath her as she clasps her hands over her mouth to mute the sobs that escape her lips. She hunches over curling into herself, crossing her arms over her chest, and rocking back and forth.

After a couple minutes of this, her eyes are red-rimmed and her nose congested. She felt the urge to lie on the floor in fetal position, but she knew she'd spent enough time wallowing. Despite her body begin for more time, she sniffed and placed her hands on the floor. Her hair curtaining her face, she pushed herself to her feet.

Turning around, she pushes her hair out of her face, and sees Kalvin standing there. Skylar shrieks and stumbles back at the sight of him. Bumping into the screen, there's slight static interference before it goes back to being a window, the remote bouncing on the ground. The grain field gone.

"I'm so sorry. I just -" Kalvin had extended out his hands in a failed attempt to calm her.

Skylar's cheeks flush beet red as she shields her face from him. Her fear made him pull back.

"I – I didn't mean to," he stutters, aiming a thumb over his shoulder. "I mean, I hear you – but I wasn't – I just thought -"

He realizes he was babbling, so he stopped and took a deep breath.

With no more meaningless words pouring out of his mouth, Kalvin cautiously stepped closer. "I didn't mean to intrude, but, I-" he chooses his words, knowing Skylar is embarrassed enough. "I heard you, and your door opened for me."

Sky holds back another cry of embarrassment as she hears his footsteps approach. She doesn't look to him though.

"Sky, please don't feel embarrassed." Kalvin speaks. "Honestly, you ought to be mad I intruded."

Skylar merely shakes her head, her attempts to speak shot straight to hell. Her feelings of longing and grief still eating away at her.

"Please say something. Just so I know you're not mad." Kalvin urges.

He now stands in front of her, peering at his feet, Sky sees he's wearing slippers with dark-gray sweatpants. Skylar keeps her head bent down, knowing she looks like a hag when she cries. Keeping a hand over her mouth she hiccups.

"Sky,"

Squeezing her eyes shut, and not knowing what to say, or how to say it past the flood of emotions, Sky simply walks into Kalvin's frame, wrapping her arms around his muscular torso. Kalvin's wearing a loose t-shirt with short sleeves that tighten as he flexes his arms to wrap around her.

Skylar starts to sob again and so she covers her mouth as her breath hitches. She doesn't say anything as she feels Kalvin pick her up and they rest on her bed, she in his lap. Keeping one arm wrapped around his torso, she buries into his shirt as his arms wrap around her, cocooning her with a feeling of comfort. Feeling so fragile in his arms, Kalvin starts to rock back and forth while rubbing her back in comforting circles.

He doesn't whisper any comforting words like 'It'll be okay' or 'you're safe.' He's smart enough to know better. So he just continues to gently rock Skylar as she releases cry after cry, tear after tear. As she calms, Skylar feels Kalvin kiss the crown of her head, and resting his chin atop her head. He rubs her arms and holds her close.

Skylar manages to utter one word through her humiliating breakdown. "Sorry." She whispers.

"Don't be." He answers.

Whether it was for ruining his shirt, appearing weak or just being annoying, Skylar was glad he was okay with it, even if it was a lie.

"I'm here for you." He mumbles. "If you wanna cry or fall apart, I'm here to hold you."

Skylar sniffles and looks up wiping her eyes.

"I'd carry you over fire and water for your love." Kalvin cups her face and kisses her forehead.

Skylar folds her lips in and rests her head on his shoulder. It's comments like this that Kalvin makes that feels like getting hit in the gut. Yet, Skylar knows he's only telling the truth, but that'll only make it that much harder to kill him. He doesn't press her to reply to make any declaration of love, but Skylar still feels awful.

She wipes her eyes again and adjusts her seat. She bends her knees as she takes a deep breath. Getting up from her seat, she wipes her eyes and makes her way to the bathroom.

"Thanks." She says over her shoulder. "I'll see you for dinner."

"You okay?" He asks as he get sup from her bed.

"Yeah." Skylar answers as the door slides shut.

Pressing her back to the door, Skylar slides to the floor, staring blankly at the wall ahead of her. Drawing a shaky breathe, she sighs. Pulling herself up and over to the sink, she washes her face and blows her nose, trying to hide the evidence of her emotional breakdown. The hot water does little to heat up her cheeks and she blows her nose to relive its congestion.

Resting her elbows on the sink, Skylar takes a few deep breaths. After a minute, she leaves the bathroom as she hears Astrid call her for dinner. Before she steps out, Skylar remembers the Celtic Cross necklace.

Walking towards the dining room, Skylar steps into a room that dates back a few centuries. Victorian chairs bordered the table while a fireplace with a cherry-finish wood, sat at the vey back of the room. Golden candelabrums poised on each end. A mahogany hutch stood guard along one wall, holding the most exquisite plates, bowls, gravy boats, glasses and a few crystal figurines.

A chandelier with crystal balls dangling ff the arms hung suspended above them with bulbs shaped to looks like the flame of a candle.

The table was lined with more exquisite delicacies. Everything Sky could think of, and things she never dreamed of lie in a row down the rectangular table. Whole roasted pigs with apples popped in their mouths, huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts, ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions and countless cheese, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

Hadrian and Hanyo are standing out on the balcony overlooking the Capitol as she enters the dining room. Kalvin hasn't showed up yet, and Astrid's conversing with the prep team on the couch near the fireplace and TV.

"Oh! Skylar! There you are!" Astrid says as she gets up. "Glad you're here, take a seat."

Astrid guides her to sit across from Hanyo as they take their seats. Kalvin arrives a minute later with a smile, taking his seat next to Skylar. He leans in and whispers something inaudible, but Skylar manages to catch it and nods her head. Adding a smile, their server brings them sparkling drinks with bubbles fizzing inside.

Skylar sniffs it and it has a scent of something sweet overpowered by something sour. She looks and sees Kalvin sip it through the straw with no effect. Taking a sip, Skylar's face contorts as her tastebuds are assaulted with a prickling sensation. She makes a sour face and sets the glass down.

"Oh, don't you like sodapop sweetie?" Astrid asks.

Skylar smacks her mouth and shakes her head. "Can I just get a water please? No lemon?"

Their server nods and falls back to the kitchen. As they eat, the TV shows the reply of the opening ceremonies that's being broadcast. A few other couples make nice impressions, one being the girl from 3. The party lets out "Ahh!" as they show Sky and Kalvin coming out of the Remake Center.

"You guys look so cute holding hands in the Circle." Astrid comments, fluttering her hands.

Once the replay ends, Hadrian takes a seat in front of them on the coffee table. "Okay, so tomorrow morning is the first training session. One of the three."

The nerves crawl their way into Skylar's stomach. The thought of meeting the other tributes makes her queasy. Only three days for all the tributes to practice together. On the last afternoon, they'll each get a chance to perform in private for the Gamemakers.

"Now, if you want me to coach you separately, let me know now." He informs.

"Why wouldn't you coach us together?" Skylar asks.

"That way if you have a secret skill you don't want the other to know about."

Skylar and Kalvin simultaneously look to one another. "I don't have anything special." He says.

Skylar briefly runs through everything they've done together. She really has nothing special. So what the heck? It couldn't hurt.

"I'd like to do it together." She tells Hadrian. Kalvin nods in agreement.

"Alright, so give me an idea of what you can do." Says Hadrian.

Skylar looks to Kalvin and fidgets with the corner of a pillow in her lap. "Um," she speaks up. "I can use a bow, and I know how to use a knife. Also I know a few basic snares."

"Are you good?" Hadrian asks.

Skylar thinks about it. She's only killed a handful of varments in the grains fields every month. She would trade whatever was good in the Market, but it's a small task. She has better aim and if she can hit a chipmunk, then a human would seem as a basic. "I'm all right at best."

"She's actually pretty good." Kalvin pipes up. "I've seen her working the fields sometimes on the weekends. She can shoot down opossums, raccoons, even chipmunks. I think I saw her bring down a deer once."

Kalvin's assessment takes her totally by surprise.

But he looks to her so casually. "When was that? I remember you and your dad walking through the market with it one day." Skylar looks to him baffled. "What? If he's going to help you, you shouldn't underestimate yourself."

"Well what about you?" Skylar says. "I've seen you bench press and boxing in the gym at school. You're pretty strong."

"Well I doubt-"

"You can box, punch, kick and dodge amazingly!" Skylar bursts out. "Every day we went into gym I always wished I was as strong as you, or any other girls that was athletic."

Kalvin's quiet.

"I've nearly killed a few things here and there. It's not like I've been hunting for years and can take out three squirrels in seconds."

"But I've seen you spar with your dad. Sometimes. They don't teach us that in school." He looks to Hadrian. "They just show us some useless techniques to try and stun the enemy and run away."

"That can be very handy. Don't doubt them." He comments. "They're probably moves the other tributes haven't seen before."

"But the way _she_ fights, she actually stands a chance." Kalvin counters.

Skylar's quiet as she picks at the sequence sewed into the pillow. "You could too." She murmurs, and Kalvin looks to her. She looks back with such honesty that Kalvin cracks a smile.

"Well," Hadrian says. "I can't guarantee there will be bows and arrows in the arena, but show them what you can do. If you're good enough, and it seems you are, they will add it in."

Skylar obediently nods as she picks off one sequence piece. Thankfully, Hadrian moves on with Kalvin. It's weird, how much he's noticed her. Like the attention he's paid to her sparring. And apparently, she has not been oblivious to him as she imagined, either. The kickboxing. The weightlifting. It's like she's kept track of him.

"Now about your kickboxing experience, she's right. Never underestimate strength in the arena. Strength can be an advantage to a player." He brings his attention on the both of them. "In the Training Center they will have weights, punching bags and such, but don't reveal how truly strong you are. Be sure to spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Don't show your best until the private sessions. Understand?"

Skylar and Kalvin nod.

"Okay. Now, go get some sleep. You'll need your rest."

Skylar and Kalvin walk down the hall and up the stairs to the bedrooms. When they reach her room, she leans against the frame, not blocking her entrance but insisting she pay attention to him. "I don't get why you're so mad at me trying to get you more help."

"Me neither." Skylar answers. As she presses her back to the door. "I - I don't know if it's because I don't want help, or – or because I don't need it or -"

"What?" Kalvin presses.

"N-nothing. It's nothing." Skylar waves off.

"Come on tell me."

Skylar sighs and drops her gaze downward to the runner rug trailing down the hall. "I – I, I guess I just don't want to accept the fact that, we'll be dead soon." Her voice shakes and she swallows thickly.

"I will but you won't."

"Will you stop that?!" Sky snaps, her voice rising in anger. "Don't say that okay?! I don't want to hear about you dying and how I will survive, I don't want to hear it okay?!"

"Why not?" Kalvin hushes her.

"Because," Skylar stops herself for a spit second before admitting it. "because I _care_ about you okay?! I feel like you have greater purpose than me!"

"What you think you're not important enough?" he retorts.

"If I die, no one will cry for me except for my family and friends, whereas with you, the whole school will shut down because all of your friends will skip that day because they're so upset and -"

Skylar is silenced as Kalvin cups her face and slants their lips together. Her back flattens against the door to her room, and her arms unknowingly rest on his biceps as his wrap around her torso. Smooth and velvet soft, his kiss ignited her from the inside, sending flash-fire coursing through her, surging to engulf her.

An involuntary moan escaped her as the slim curve of his lip ring pressed against her mouth. Fastening on hand to the nape of his neck, she pulled him to her, her fingers intertwining with the dark, feather-soft wisp of his hair.

_What am I doing_, she asks herself.

He pulls away, leaving her breathless. Kalvin pulls her into a hug, cradling the back of her head. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear that."

Skylar breathes in his scent of cologne and some natural scent all his own.

"I don't want you to die." Skylar nearly wines. "I want to go home with you."

"So, you want to be partners?" he asks.

Skylar looks to him and answers with an indiscriminant nod of her head. "Maybe I can teach you something, some basics about weapons and then we can continue that tomorrow?"

Kalvin nods, smiling as he takes her hands.

"Hey, uh listen, you wanna talk? I, I mean I'm not tired yet and maybe -" Skylar stutters.

Kalvin nods and Skylar opens her door and leads him into her room. For half of the night, they spent talking about their strategy.

The conversation seeming to calm Skylar only slightly.

Silk washes off the makeup and her hair as steam coats the mirrors of her bathroom. She scrubs until her face feels light again and her hair is relieved of the products. Shutting off the water, she wraps herself and her hair in a towel, she dumps her garments down the laundry shoot and walks out to the bedroom/living room.

Her quarters were bigger than her house back in 3. She felt nerdish-giddy when she saw all of the gadgets just in her room. The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred buttons and options to choose from. From regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges.

Rather professionally programming the closet for an outfit to suit her needs, she dresses in a long-sleeve graphic tee, jeans and slippers. Her hair was a glossy curtain around her shoulders as she had tried a new dryer prototype. It tickled her scalp before listing back up and letting her hair fall fully dry and smooth.

Her window zooms in and out on parts of the city at her command. And she can read what food she wants into a small microphone and it shows up minutes later, hot and steamy. Rather she save room for dinner, Silk simply snacks on a fruit tray – filled with plump grapes, pineapple, mangos and apple slices until there's a knock at her door. Tula's calling her to dinner.

Upon walking into the dining room, the modern style seemingly suitable for District 3. Luxurious couches sat along the walls between two sets of floor-to-wall glass French doors, bordered with thick violet draperies with gold linen. A large throw rug sat under a large circular table lined with more delicious food.

Taking her seat, Silk takes in the food. Mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of peas, roast beef sliced as thin as paper, noodles in a green sauce, cheese that melt on your tongue served with sweet blue grapes. The servers all young people dressed in white tunics move wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the platter and glasses full. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and a chocolate cake.

Silk watches as Tula sits next to her, Stagger across from her, Vobman at the head of the table and the prep team taking the vacant seats. Silk simply listens in on the conversations, feeling she'll jump in whenever the topic interests her. It never does. She pokes at her salad as she listens to the exchange of fashion tips between Tula and Gaya.

Looking across, Stagger was wearing a blue-striped loose tank top with a grey knit beanie. He had a couple bracelet on his wrist and his hipster glasses. He pops a grape in his mouth, but he catches it between his teeth. Looking to Silk, he quirks an eyebrow and gulps the fruit down. Silk rolls her eyes but cracks a smile.

"Hey look!" Tula chimes. "They're replaying the tributes coming out of the Remake Center!"

All heads turn to the TV poised at the head of the table on one wall at the table end opposite of Vobman. It was clear that Silk and the girl from 9 were the ones who made the best impression. That made them easier targets for the Careers since they were usually favored by the people of the Capitol.

By the end of dinner, Vobman wiped his mouth. "Okay, and to add to that," he folds the napkin on the table. "Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you two to play it." He tells Silk and Stagger. "Now get to bed while the grown-ups talk.

Silk is surprised when she doesn't hear Stagger say anything to her as they pass her bedroom first. She has the urge to call out to him if he's okay, but decides it's best not to ask. Kicking off her shoes, Silk changes into a soft nightgown and climbs into bed, burrowing under the covers.

When Silk wakes again, it's still dark out. Rolling over in her bed, she can see the light in the hallway is still on. How early is it? Her clock reads 1:50 a.m. suddenly she starts as she sees the shadow of two footprints in front of her door. Instead of getting up, Silk closes her eyes and keeps her breathing even and heavy.

She hears the sliding off her door as it opens. She hears the rustle of clothing and then the feeling of a hand pressing down on the corner of the mattress. A moment later and she felt Stagger's lips brush her temple. The remnants of that infectious cologne invaded Silk's nostrils, an airy blend of something sharp and sweet.

Even after Stagger left her room, the calmness he had brought with her remained, soothing Silk's nerves and robbing the pressing darkness of its powers.

In its place, sleep closed in to claim her.

Dawn is breaking through the window. The Capitol has a misty, haunted air to it. Slowly, Silk drags herself out of bed and into the shower. She punches buttons on the control board and end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assault her. Then, she's deluged in lemony foam that she has to scrape off with a heavy bristled brush. When she's dried and moisturized with lotion, she finds an outfit has been laid out for her in front of the closet. Tight black workout-like pants, a short sleeve shirt and gymshoes.

Leaving her hair to air-dry she dresses and heads into the family room. No one has come to collect her for breakfast, and judging from the lighting of the sun it's close to nine o'clock. Walking in, only the prep team is present. While the table is empty, a long board off to the side has been laid with at least twenty dishes. A young man stands at attention by the spread. Silk asks if she can serve herself and he nods.

She loads a plate with eggs, sausages, batter cakes covered in thick pink preserves, slices of pale purple melon. As she gorges herself, she watches the sun rise over the Capitol. Helping herself to a second plate of hot grain smothered in beef stew, she sees Tula walk into the room all preppy and smiling.

"Oh good morning Silk!" she squeaks.

"Morning." Silk smiles. Finally she fills a plate with rolls and sits at the table, breaking off bits and dipping them into hot chocolate.

Stagger and Vobman arrive late, and Gaya doesn't show.

"Mm, what are you eating there beautiful?" Stagger asks as he grabs a plate.

Silk rolls her eyes while her mind wanders back to the previous night's incident. Combined with the reincarnation of his personality, she can't help but smile. She takes notice that Stagger's wearing the same outfit as her, his glasses gone.

"Hey look," Silk speaks. "we're Twinning."

Stagger looks to her for a brief moment of confusion, but quickly turns to amusement. "You trying to be cute?" he teases. Silk ignores him as he walks around her to the other side. Suddenly he leans down and whispers. "'Cause it's totally working."

Then he kisses her temple before taking his seat across from her. Her cheeks turn a slight pink and she does her best to cover it as Vobman sits down. Silk is nervous about the training. There will be three days in which all the tributes practice together, then on the last afternoon, there will be a private session with the Gamemakers.

When Vobman finishes several bowls of oatmeal, he takes a sip of tea and leans his elbows on the table. "Now, let's get down to business. If any of you want to be coached separately, tell me now."

"Why separately?" Silk asks.

"Just so if you have a secret skill or something and you don't want the other to know about it or so." He answers.

Stagger and Silk look to one another. They exchange a look, and Stagger simply smiles and looks to Vobman. "We would like to be coached separately."

Silk lowers her head, feeling ashamed to leaving Stagger like this, but at the same time, she feels relieved. Going back to last night, it almost seemed like the kiss he gave her was his way of saying goodbye. Trust will only be a weakness, so it seems now, whatever thin connection they'd formed has be severed.

"Okay, so give me a feel of what you can do." Vobman says as he adds honey to the tea.

"Well, I can't do shit, but Stagger's good at sword fighting." Silk blurts, accidentally.

"Really?" Vobman turns to Stagger.

Stagger clears his throat. "Uh, yeah it's a new program I designed. You play as a main character in a game, and you pick a weapon and train with it."

"Impressive." Vobman compliments. "Now, Silk, given you don't have much experience, I'd see if you can get your hands on a weapon. Any weapon and learn something. Even if it's just a knife. Any weapon is better than none."

Silk nods as she gets up and drops her plate down the chute.

"Alright, now go meet Tula in the elevator at ten for training."

Silk stalks back to her room, shutting the door behind her. She sits on her bed, feeling a sense of hatred for leaving Stagger to train alone. But something in her gut told her this was for the best.

It's almost ten. Silk brushes her teeth and flips her hair to one side. As she approaches the elevator, her anxiety the time she meets Stagger and Tula at the elevator she catches herself chipping away at her nails and nervously pulling at her clothes. She forces herself to stop.

The actual training rooms are below ground level of the building. With the elevators, the ride is less than a minute. The doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Although it's not yet ten, they're the third one to arrive, what a coincidence. District 12 is the last to show, then everyone gathers in a tense circle. Each of them wearing a cloth square with the district number pinned on their shirts. While someone pins the number 3 on Silk's back, she does a quick assessment. Everyone else is dressed alike too.

The girl from District 9 is there too, talking with her partner as if they're friends on their way to lass during a passing period. As they join the circle, the head trainer, a tall athletic woman named Elly steps up and begins to explain the training schedule.

Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per our mentor's instructions. Some of the stations teach survival skill, others fighting techniques.

When Elly begins to read down the list of the skill stations, Silk's eyes can't help flitting around to the other tributes. It's the first they've been assembled, on level ground, in simple clothes. Silk's heart sinks. Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than she is, even though many of the tributes have never been fed properly. She can see it in their bones, their skin, the hollow look in their eyes. Silk may be smaller naturally, but her overall brains and ability to think on her feet gives her an edge I the arena.

The expectations are the kids from the wealthier districts, the volunteers, the ones who have been fed and trained throughout their lives for this moment. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 traditionally have this look about the. It's technically against the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it happens every year. In the other districts, the tributes call them Career Tributes, or just Careers. And like as not, the winner will be one of them.

The slight advantage she has is the entrance she made seems to vanish in the presence of her competition. The other tributes were jealous of her, and the girl from 9, but not because they were amazing, because the stylists were. Now she sees nothing but contempt in the glances of the Career Tributes. Each must have fifty to a hundred pounds on her. Apart from 9, they project arrogance and brutality. When Ely releases the tributes, they head straight for the deadliest-looking weapons in the gym and handle them with ease.

Looking around at the Career tributes who are showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. Then there's her with the others, the underfed, the incompetent, shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax.

She manages to see Stagger at the knot-tying station. She sees the trainer showing him a simple, excellent trap that will leave a human competitor dangling by a leg from a tree. Silk decides to go to camouflage. Silk actually feel genuinely seems to really enjoy this station, swirling a combination of mud and clay and berry juices around on her pale skin, weaving disguises from vines and leave. The trainer who runs the camouflage station is full of enthusiasm at her work.

The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Twenty or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit in the elevated stands that surround the gymnasium, sometimes wandering about to watch them, jotting down notes, other times eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them, ignoring the lot of them. But they do seem to be keeping their eyes on her and the tributes from 9. Several times Silk's looked up to find one fixated on her. They consult with the trainers during their meals as well.

After washing off the paint, she walks around the stations. For some reason, she' tempted to find the girl form 9. She knows they both had a connection at the opening ceremony. They had some kind of connection, what it is, it's unclear. But with her training separately, she realizes how badly she needs someone to train with. And with her and Stagger training separately, she utterly feels – lonely.

Silk looks around and manages to find her in a sparring range, wielding a weapon that looks like a solid wooden walking staff, but one end is weighted enough to crush a man's' skull, and when she jabs a dummy, the other end conceals a spring-loaded double-edged blade. She stabs the thing right in the heart. Silk's hesitant, but she forces herself to move as she watches the girl yank the blade back and twirl the staff in her hands.

When she looks up, Silk instantly makes a beeline for the building area, dropping her gaze.

_Idiot_, she thinks.

Twirling the bracelet her father gave her, she spends the rest of the time building, something. The table was covered with papers, inkwells, wires, and bits of copper. In the center, beside a stack of carefully drawn designs, lie the beginnings of an invention she hope will give her an example of her intelligence. She doesn't know what it is, but she manages to make the lights glow.

As she goes to retrieve more bits from a bin, she's walking back to find the girl from 9 running her fingers along the mantel. A nine pinned to her back. Her shoulders tense, lips pressed tight. She doesn't notice Silk, the silence between them feels unwieldy. Silk clears her throat and try to think of the most conciliatory greeting she can compose. How are you? Did you enjoy the rooms? Loved your costume at the ceremony.

If those sound half as stupid coming out of her mouth as they do in her head, she can't say them. She reaches her hand toward the delicately spliced wires of Silk's new invention. She suddenly quickens her pace, scattering the bits across the floor and say, "Don't touch that."

She freezes and looks at her for the first time.

"I mean . . . it's still a work in progress and it needs . . . it's just very delicate and I don't want anyone to touch it."

She stares her down and then deliberately presses her finger against the half-finished device before her. Her expression dares Silk to pick a fight, and she could easily take her up on might be a relief to get some of the uncomfortable, volatile emotions out into the open. And she needs an outlet for her own.

Silk knows what to do.

Want to spar?"

She frowns and slowly pulls her hand away from the wires. "Spar?" her voice was feminine, soft toned.

"Yeah."

She glances around as if looking for the trap. "Why?"

"I just . . . I just want to share some tips and such." _Even though I don't have any_. Silk offer a small smile as she walks toward her and nearly trip on a stack of happiness organized books.

She lifts her chin, "You know we're going _against_ each other right?"

Silk approaches her, stopping on the other side of the table. "Look, I'm hopeless, but I know you know we both out showed the others. They're going to devour me like a meal."

Something about the look in her eyes made her glare softens into something bright and fervent. "You've never handled a weapon before?"

"No." Silk answers, adding a perfect amount of humor in her tone.

"Well you seem pretty smart." She compliments. "Seems like you can build something."

"Not exactly very helpful in the arena." Silk retorts.

The girls shrugs her shoulders, her eyes grazing over the stacks of books and papers. Her gaze meets Silk again and she slightly smiles. "I guess I can at least help you find a weapon that suites you."

Silk smiles broadly, but tries not to look to desperate. "Really?"

"Sure, why not. Come on, we can try something I saw at the weapons' rack."

Silk follows two steps behind her, trying her best to suppress her grin. She suddenly reaches out and touches her arm, "Oh wait, what's your name?"

The girl turns to her, her black curly hair pulled back in a ponytail at the base of her neck. A smile on her lips. Her hazel eyes gleaming with something like, kindness.

"My name is Skylar."


	7. Chapter 7

Silk is uneasy as she's handed the walking staff she saw Skylar practicing with from before. It takes her hours of work before she can balance the heavier end, swing it like a mallet, and knock Bob, the practice dummy, flying. Even so, Silk's still off balance enough that if she has to deal with two foes at once, she'll find herself skewered at the end of a sword before Silk can regain her footing, and she's yet to manage springing the blade after the initial hit without getting knocked to the ground.

Bob is about the average height of a man and weighs in at an even one hundred seventy pounds. He's got Silk and Skylar by forty pounds and five inches each. Skylar told Silk that Skylar's dad always said if she could take out the dummy, she could handle any man who tried to give her trouble.

Skylar – with the help of a trainer - strung a heavy wire between two metal posts and hooked Bob to it. The dummy slides, swings, and moves with her own momentum, and while it isn't the same as fighting something with intelligence, he keeps Silk on her toes. She's seen Skylar run him through with her knife yank the blade free, duck, and spin around bury her weapon in his back while he slides toward her.

The Switch is another story.

Silk slams the weighted end of it into Bob, but can't spin the blade side around before her sparring partner swings back and sends her sprawling. After her fourth disastrous attempt, Silk lets fly the most creative swear word she' ever head her father say and toss the Switch onto the floor beside her.

"I can't master it." She tells Skylar who's been watching her patiently.

Can't swing it around in time to deliver the crucial blow that could mean the difference between life and death. Silk plops onto the tiled floor, taking along gulp of her water.

"Come on Silk. Things take time. The Capitol wasn't built in a day." Skylar says. "Now come one up. I'll help you."

Silk sighs and slowly pushes to her feet, grasping the Switch Skylar retrieves and closes her eyes.

"Take a deep breath." Skylar calmly instructs. Silk does. "Now, widen your stance, crouch."

Silk grips the weapon and opens her eyes.

"Drop your shoulders a bit. You'll need the room to move." Skylar grips Silk's hands when they start to slide together. "No, you don't. Nice wide grip. Keep it loose. Gives you balance and control."

Silk drops her shoulders, widens her grip.

"All right, now, you've got a weapon on each end. You'll only have seconds to decide which one to use." Skylar lets go of Silk's hands, and places them on Silk's shoulders. "Big man, sprinting towards you."

"Does he have a weapon?" Silk asks.

"Doesn't matter, Silk. He's twice your size and his speed will bring him in range within seconds. Which end do you use?" Skylar's fingers curl around Silk's shoulders as of willing her to know the answer.

"Blade. No time to swing the weighted end." Silk slides the blade free and crouch.

"Very good." Skylar releases Silk's shoulders and stands off to the side. "Now, if you must engage an opponent who is bigger, stronger, and faster, what do you do?"

"Take him down. Make it so he can't get up and come after me." Silk answers.

"Yes. But you've got one chance to surprise him. Make full use of that advantage. Where do you make the first cut?" Skylar continues to quiz.

"Don't you just go for the throat?" Silk asks.

"No. You let him come in, then spin and slash the inner thigh as you turn. Cut open the artery." Skylar corrects.

Silk draws a deep breath, imagining a man barreling towards her, lets him come almost too close for comfort, and then spin and slash, planting her left foot to keep her balance for the next move.

"Good! He's bleeding, but the pain hasn't hit yet, and he doesn't realize how badly he's hurt. He'll try to come after you. How do you stop him?"

"Uh, just stab his head?" Silk idiotically replies.

"No, no. Cut the Achilles tendon as he passes you, then get out of range." Skylar points to the tendon on her hamstrings.

Silk spins and slashes again, the Switch beginning to feel like an extension of her arm as she thrust, turn, and slice in tune with Skylar's voice. She's clapping, pride written on her face. "You did it. See, I told you you could."

"Yeah, I'm good until we get to the arena and I blank out." Silk says as she returns the weapon to its rack.

"Oh don't fret." Skylar says. "You'll be fine."

"Silk!"

Both girls look over and see Stagger jogging towards them. Silk drops her head back in annoyance. "Uh, not now." She murmurs.

"Friend of yours?" Skylar teases.

"Hardly."

"Hey Silk. Who's your friend?" Stagger asks grinning.

"Go away." Silk says through grit teeth.

"Hey nice to meet you, I'm Stagger." He ignores extending out his hand. You turn away and facepalm yourself.

"Skylar." She replies, shaking his hand.

Stagger then brings her hand up and kisses the back of it with a smile. Silk watches in horror as Skylar smiles and giggles.

"Skylar." He repeats. "Lovely name."

Skylar smile and giggles like a schoolgirl. "Thank you."

"So what are you ladies up to?" he asks as he folds his arms.

"Nothing." Silk suddenly interjects. "Just talking."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought I saw you fighting just a minute ago." Stagger mentions.

"Well I think that all that hairspray and hormones went to your brain, we were just practicing" Silk sasses back.

"Did you two used to date?" Skylar asks.

Silk's face reddens. "No!"

"She wishes."

Silk shoots Stagger a glare of annoyance, only to have him reply with a waggle of his eyebrows and a wink. Silk groans in annoyance. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"Well I just thought since you're learning to fight, I'd come and join." Stagger implies. He turns to Skylar.

"Actually I'm meeting my partner over at the archery station. But you guys can come it f you want." She looks at Silk "That's really my strongpoint."

"Uh, sure." Silk says suddenly more upbeat.

"Skylar!" someone calls.

Everyone looks to see Kalvin jogging over to Skylar.

Silk felt her cheeks warm at the sight of him. He had black feathery hair with the ends of his tips dip-dyed in red. But his eyes, they were red. Red rose red. A small silver lip ring hugged one corner of his mouth. He walks up and kisses Skylar on her cheek.

Panic pierces Silk, swelling on a tide of something almost fearful as they talked between one another. If they were a couple, then the small idea of an alley just spontaneously combusted right in front of her.

"Who're they?" he says kindly, not even seeming to mind.

"This is Silk and Stagger. They're from . . ." Skylar motions to Silk.

"District 3." She answers.

"Oh." Kalvin nods his head. "Cool. Oh, hey the archery station's open."

"Oh yay! Let's go!" she turns to Silk and Stagger. "Come on!"

As they walk over, Silk's fear of losing her ally grows as she sees Kalvin interlock their fingers.

As they near the archery station, Skylar's excitement pried her from Kalvin's hands as she runs like a toddler to a candy store. There are bows made of wood and plastic and metal and materials none of them can name. Arrows with feathers cut into flawless uniform lines. They stand back as Skylar chooses a bow, strings it, and slings the matching quiver of arrows over her shoulder.

As she steps on a platform, multiple lasers criss-cross along the range. They vanish and then Skylar loads an arrow. Laser lights all turn in the same direction and form the three-dimensional hologram of a person.

Skylar pulls back the string and lets her arrow fly, and it nails the figure right in the heart. Upon contact, the hologram shatters into thousands of blocks. Another forms at the opposite end and Skylar loads again and shoots it in the head. Overhead one runs across the ledge; Skylar nails it in the leg, then the head. Each time reloading another arrow instinctively after she releases one.

Another appears n the ground and actually doges her first arrow, in turn chucking something shaped like an axe towards her. Skylar drops and rolls, coming up on one knee and as the hologram jumps, she shoots it down; thousands of cubes scattering. Without stopping, she immediately whirls around and shoots at one oncoming. The first arrow nicks its shoulder, cutting off its arm, then she hits it again firmly in the neck area. Another running across the ledge, carrying a sword, she pulls back and aims. Just as it passed a support beam, she lets it fly and it strikes the figure in the head.

After the last figure shatters, the lights fade off. And the gym lights drift bright over the range. While Kalvin seems impressed, Silk's mouth is agape while Stagger has eyes wide. The sound of clapping draws their attention, and they turn to see the other tributes have stopped to watch. Their faces ranging from envy, to hated, and admiration. The girl from 7 clapping.

_Great_, Silk thinks.

Breakfast and dinner are served on the tribute's floors, but at lunch the twenty-four of them east in a dining room off the gymnasium. Food is arranged on carts around the room and you serve yourself. The Career Tributes tend to gather rowdily around one table, as if to prove their superiority, that they have no fear of one another and consider the rest of the tributes beneath notice. Most of the tributes sit alone, like lost sheep. The feeling of the room similar to high school.

Skylar and Kalvin eat together, trying to keep up a friendly conversation during the meals. Though it's not easy finding a topic, talking about home being painful, and the present and future unbearable. But at a distance, they mimic a couple in high school. They manage to find a topic about a book series they've both read.

Silk loads her tray with a cartoon of fries and chicken nuggets, finishing with a small salad and carton of milk. As she moves forward out of line, it dawn on her. Where was he going to sit? The last thing she wanted was to be seen floundering around in the dining hall, especially since the other tributes would be watching. No doubt they'd already been broadcasting he downfall.

Silk scanned the room.

It seemed that everyone was already seated. She managed to find Skylar and Kalvin, but would their small conversation and training session be different here? But before she knew what her feet were doing, they started moving in Sky's direction. Her pathway chosen, she bypassed the opportunity of an empty table and walked straight for the two; trying to ignore the sacrificial lamb feeling she was getting.

As though she had some kind of sonar or radar built in, Skylar glances up. "Hey Silk." She greets with a smile, a smile with something like, relief?

"Hey," Silk says, nervously rocking side to side on her feet. "Can I sit with you?" she nervously asks.

"Go for it." Skylar answers. Waving her hand across table, she looks like she was casting away a force field to allow Silk to enter. Silk opened her mouth, not sure what to say. Was she really allowing Silk to sit with her? An overwhelming sense of gratitude welled up inside of her, nearly bringing a sting to her eyes. It was the nicest thing anyone has done for her in less than a week.

"You want to call over your partner too?" Sky asks.

Silk had just lifted her first forkful of salad to her mouth, when she looks ahead and sees Stagger walk out of the lunch line. A harsh conflict battles in her heart as she sees him look around. Once his eyes lay upon them, Silk didn't have to say anything, because Kalvin raised his arm and motions him over. Stagger smiles and walks over, and when Kalvin looks back to Silk, her face must be showing obvious irritation and confusion, he shrugs.

"What? The Careers aren't the only ones who can have allies." He says.

It takes a moment before Silk's brain registers the word. She blinks a couple times before it clicks. "Wait, what?"

"Hey guys." Stagger greets like they've been friends forever. "How's it going?"

"Good." Skylar answers with a casual smile.

"Since we're here, I must say, that was an impressive shooting display you showed." Stagger compliments. Accompanied by one of his award-winning charming smiles.

Skylar bashfully smiles. "Thank you."

"Everyone else thought so too." Kalvin says as he motions his head over his shoulder to the other tributes sparing glances. "If this ally thing is going to work, it can be both a risk and a life-saver."

"You want to be allies with us?" Stagger asks as he pokes at his Sloppy Joe's.

"Well," Skylar interjects. "we were discussing. If you guys are interested."

"It depends if it's out of pity." Stagger implies.

Kalvin tore his grilled cheese sandwich in half. Skylar poked at her fruit salad with her fork, while Stagger switches over to dipping his apple slices in his yogurt.

"Well, you guys seem to be good fighters," Sky says.

"Speak for yourself." Silk says as she scoops another sporkful of greens.

Sky gives her a 'Give me a break' glance and adds on, "So we thought, why not."

"Well, apart from the fact that nearly _everyone_ wants you as an alley," Stagger reminds, wielding his spork in a circle. "what'll happen if we miraculously make it to the finals?"

"What do the Careers normally do?" Skylar retorts.

"I don't know, I'm not an expert." He replies cockily.

"Well, leaving that aside," Kalvin inserts. "what do you guys say?"

"You know we'll become the first targets to be eliminated if we try." Silk says as she moves on to her fries and nuggets. "Or at least they'll try and convince you otherwise." She directs to Skylar.

"Well, listen," Sky says, slightly turning to her. Her fruit salad still untouched. "we both outshone the rest in the ceremony. We have that in common. And they possibly even expected this. And you seem like the most likely person I can trust, apart from Kalvin. In all honesty, id' want you to win if I didn't make it."

Silk's eyes flick to Kalvin who remains silent.

"Sthe makeths a goo poin." Stagger says with his mouth full of Sloppy Joe's.

Silk shots him a look. "Stay out of it, eat your Joe's."

Kalvin chuckles as he takes a sip of lemonade.

"Come on Silk. What do you say?" Sky asks.

Silk looks into the hazel of her eyes. This close, Silk can see her eyes were mostly a pal emerald green with the brown outlining the iris. Sky perks her eyebrows in a 'Well?' gesture. Silk can't help but smile as she sighs.

"Okay." She says.

"Yay!" Sky quietly squeals as she flutters her arms in a too-girly-for-her motion.

Silk giggles as she finishes her fries. "By the way, I like your hair. It's pretty."

"Thanks." Sky replies. "My stylist calls it an ombre . . ."

On the second day, Silk and Skylar go back to fighting with the Switch weapon while Stagger and Kalvin bond over a little spear throwing.

The weighted end of Silk's Switch smacks into Bob with a satisfying crunch, and she spins the stick, releases the double-edged blade, and buries it into bob's heart as he crashes back toward her.

She grins and yanks her weapon free. "You're getting better at that." Skylar says as she picks up another Switch. "Okay, sheathe your blade. We'll count a solid touch from the blade end as a strike."

Silk sends her blade back into its hiding place, widens her stance, and rolls on the balls of her feet. Skylar walks towards her, her stick whistles through he air and Silk leaps back to dog the blow. Spinning, Skylar taps her with the sheathed blade before she can raise her arms in defense.

"My point." Sky says, and doesn't bother hiding her smirk.

"Dammit!" Silk squeaks. Skylar laughs. "No, no I'm getting this." She circles Sky, the padded floor providing a cushioned surface for her shoes. "Lucky shot."

Skylar lashes out again, but Silk's ready. Blocking her with the middle of her Switch, Silk whirls beneath Sky's outstretched arms and slams the weighted end into her thigh. Pride keeps Skylar from swearing at the pain. Silk sweeps her feet out from underneath her. Skylar flips in midair and rolls forward as she lands, coming up with her stick ready.

The controlled grace of her movements would make any trainer proud.

"You're fast." Silk says, advancing towards her.

"You're not bad for a tech head."

They block, parry, and break apart. Silk's strong and quick, but Skylar knows she doesn't know how to anticipate the unexpected. Sky steps back, inviting an attack, and Silk charges forward, swinging the weighted end of her stick like a butcher slicing the head from a sheep. Skylar waits until the last second, then drops to the ground and rams her with her shoulder. Silk's forward momentum carries her over the top of Sky and Silk lands face-first on the mats.

Skylar laughs as she turns over and pushes to her feet. Silk stares at her, a tiny smile across her lips.

"You need to be ready for an opponent who does the unexpected." Sky offers a hand up. Silk takes her outstretched hand, the coolness of her father's bracelet braising against Sky's wrist.

"Nice bracelet." She says as she tugs her up.

"Oh, thanks. My dad made it for me." Silk says, rotating it around her wrist, a habit she got into quickly, the gesture calming her. Silk looks to Sky and spots the necklace. "Pretty necklace." She offers in return.

"Thank you." Sky says, her fingers fluttering to the Celtic cross. She steps back to pick up her weapon. "My family gave it to me before the Reaping."

"It is like a family heirloom?" Silk asks as she helps Sky put back the Switches.

"Yeah, it was my grandmother's. The sapphire symbolizes faithfulness." She says.

"It's pretty." Silk compliments.

"Thank you. Come on, I'll show you some archery basics." Skylar says as she leads Silk over the archery station.

"So, how did you learn how to do that?" Silk asks as they approach. Her nerves prickling as she sees the girl and boy tributes from 1 and 2.

The girl from 1 scowls while the boy from 2, who's fairly attractive and muscular, winks at them.

Skylar tries to ignore them as she leads Silk towards the rack of different bows. "I've been working on my family's grain farm since I was thirteen." She answers, picking up a quiver. "I'd sometimes shoot rodents that would try and eat the grain."

"Oh, rodents." _Then shooting a person must be one hell of an upgrade_.

"What's your draw length?" Sky asks.

"My what?"

"Here," Skylar lifts up Silk's arm until they were level with her shoulders. Taking a measuring tape, she measures the distance of Silk's arms from palm to palm. "Okay."

"What was that about?" Silk asks as she lowers her arms.

"This way you'll have a comfortable draw length." Sky explains. "Your draw length is like putting a foundation on your house. If it's too long, you're going to overextend your muscles. If it's too short, you're going to look a little bit weird when trying to shoot."

"Oh." Silk watches as Skylar starts to string a recurve bow, and looks over and sees two more different bows hanging on a post. She wanders over and inspects them. Braising her hands over them she asks. "What about these?"

Sky looks up as she knots the string. "Those are Compound bows. The kind you're starting on is a Traditional."

Silk wants to try the compounds, but judging from their names, she decides you need to have more experience. She wanders back over to Sky as she hands her the bow. "How's this? Draw back."

Branching off her vague knowledge of archery, Silk takes the bow, grips it, and pulls the string back to her mouth. It felt fine. "It's good."

"You comfortable?" Skylar asks.

"Yeah." Silk assures.

"You a righty?" Sky asks.

"Yeah." Silk answers.

"Okay, let's go." She says tossing Silk a bow glove.

Silk follows Skylar to the range, the boy and girls had left and listens to her instructions. Body sideways, left foot forward, straight spine. Feet square and shoulder-width apart. Putting on the glove, her pointer finger and thumb were covered while the glove simply covered the knuckles of her remaining fingers. The arrows they had, one feather was a different color than the rest, that was the feather, that when loading the bow, had to face up.

"Now what?" Silk asks.

Skylar reaches back and pulls out an arrow. "Nock the arrow."

Silk takes it and the arrow connects to the string with a soft _tip_.

"Watch your fingers." Skylar instructs. "Draw to your cheek. Remember the three checkpoints. Tip of your nose, mouth and chin. Keep both eyes open."

Silk's fingers slightly shake as she aims, then she release the arrow, feeling it slice against the nook between her pointer and thumb. She slightly hisses in pain.

"That's what the glove is for. Traditional don't have a lever like the compounds. You need to use your hand to level the arrow."

"Why don't I practice with that?" Silk asks.

"Because it's possible they won't have I tin the arena. It's too much of a, luxurious bow."

"Oh."

"Keep one finger above, your middle and ring finger below. Don't touch the actual arrow, you'll screw your aim." Sky instructs.

After another shot, and another, one arrow landed higher in the bull's-eye, the other flying over and landing behind it. Silk sighs in aggravation.

Skylar perks a smile. "Takes time Silk." She taps Silk's shoulder with another arrow. "Remember the Capitol wasn't built in a day."

"With the technology they have, probably." Silk mumbles.

Once training ends, both tributes go back to their floor levels, but from there, their stylists and mentors grill each of them throughout breakfast and dinner about every moment of the days. What they did, who watched them, and how the other tributes size up. Neither of their stylists are around, so there's no one to add sanity to the meals as they whip them into shape. Full of endless directions about what they should do and not do in training. Skylar is patient while Silk becomes fed up and surly.

As Stagger and Silk are finally able to escape to their chambers on the second night, Stagger mumbles, "Someone ought to get Vobman a drink."

Silk makes a sound that s somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Then she catches herself. It's messing with her mind too much, trying to make friends when really it'll only backfire. At least when they get to the arena, she'll know where she stands.

On the third day of training, they start to call the tributes out of lunch for the private sessions with the Gamemakers. District by district, first the boy, then the girl tribute. Silk doesn't eat anything as Stagger is called. Sitting with Skylar and Kalvin, she suddenly wishes they could switch places as they're from nine. Which in more detailed examination is the perfect district when it comes to private evaluations; you're not near the front, and you're not slated to be dead last like 12.

Silk hasn't touched her food while Sky and Kalvin take small bites and occupy with small talk.

Finally Silk's name is called. She looks towards the door. She smooths her hair, set her shoulders and stand up.

As she's walking, someone calls her name. She turns to find Skylar, her eyes flooded with nerves and hope. "Good luck." She offers her a smile.

Silk nervously smiles back as she turns and heads for the gymnasium.


	8. Chapter 8

Silk tries to calm and assure herself that it's good she's up early as she approaches the gymnasium. They haven't been there that long, the Gamemakers. Perfectly sober as opposed to them having too much wine and wanting to go home.

As she walks up, she hears one of the Gamemakers greet her. "Welcome Ms. Koune."

Silk scouts the crowd but can't place the voice, so she just smile and nods her head. She walks towards the weapons rack and instantly her eyes fixate on the Switch weapon. She keeps her composure steady despite her feet itching to run and snatch it. Grabbing the one with the weight she's used to, she walks over to Bob.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Remember everything she taught you." she whispers.

Opening her eyes, Silk shoulders her weapon, the lunging forward stabs Bob in the stomach. Immediately prying the weapon loose, she spins it above her head and whacks the weighted end into his head. He swings and Silk rushes to be behind him and spinning the weapon still she slams the side into his ribs, then freeing the blade, slashes his calf area and then drives it between his shoulder-blade area.

Yanking the weapon free, she looks resists the urge to look to the Gamemakers. She makes her way back around to Bob's front and spins the weapon in her hand. She widens her stance and rolls on the balls oh her heals.

For the next twenty minutes, Silk loses track of what she's doing. But she does remember working with the Switch and Bob often, and even trying to throw knives with mediocre at best. Once she's dismissed, she gives them her friendliest smile, the only reason being she needs to appear likable.

As she returns to the dining hall, she finds Skylar and Kalvin sitting as they were when she left them. Searching the room, she manages to find Stagger, but two girls on either side of him. Silk's heart pounds and she can feel her cheeks burning. Before she can think, she's storming over towards them, takes note of them looking to her, and snatching Stagger's wrist. She must've said something harsh because the girls were looking to her with shock and even hatred.

As she got back to the table with Skylar and Kalvin, she had realized he was smirking.

"What?" she says.

"What you said. It was cute." He says.

Silk doesn't ask what she said to avoid a moronic confrontation from him. Figuring he'd repeat it, she huffed and rolled her eyes. Skylar was smiling too, so either it was something really bad, or really embarrassing.

"That was so cute of you!" She says. "The way you were all like, "Leave him alone, he's mine!" that was adorable!"

_Embarrassing_.

"Shut it." Silk says.

"So, how'd it go?" Kalvin asks.

"Pretty good, I hope." Looking around, Silk notices that the other tributes that already went were gone. "Are we allowed to go back to our rooms?"

"Yeah if you want, though I wouldn't pass up some food, but that's just me." Skylar jokes.

"I think it's best we get back." Stagger answers for her.

Silk looks to him, but he only smiles as he takes her hand. Silk bites back a protest as he escorts her from the room, his hand still in hers. Her fingers tingled with pins and needles as if they've become numb.

Stagger didn't talk to her the whole time, and he didn't release her grip even after they left the dining hall. And yet, Silk didn't retract her hand. It wasn't until they were on their floor level, and had just walked in that he finally talks.

"Look, I'm not going to make fun of you, but I just want to know. Look at me."

Silk tilts her head and meets his gaze taking a breath.

"Why did come over and snatch me? I mean, you didn't have to."

Silk was about to spit back a snappy comment, but she halted at the seriousness in his eyes. It was the same look he'd given her on the train when they were nervous about going into training. He looks her in the eyes, and she nearly steps back in slight fear.

Why _did_ she take him away? She always thought she didn't like him, at all. Just a bump in her road that she'd leave for someone else to flatten.

But despite Silk burying it under layer upon layer of oppressive emotions, if Silk really delved into it, she cares.

He'd found his way under her skin, but in a way that she liked it.

She clears her throat. "Okay, I'll admit it, you're charming. In a stubborn irritating kind of way; and in a sense, I was jealous. But not in the way that you'd think."

She clamps her mouth shut to wait for his usual quick-wit reply, then she'd snap back and then they can go to their bedrooms and hate each other for another day. But it never came. Instead, he nods his head and takes a deep inhale.

"Okay." Then he smiles, and petting her head retreats to his room.

_What . . . was . . . that?!_ When his reaction should've made her feel different, it rubs her the wrong way. It wasn't what she was used to. This whole time they've been together, she'd grown so used to his personally, that now that she's gotten what she wanted out him – a descent person – it burns.

What was happening?

Skylar's knee bounces nervously as she waits for her name to be called. Kalvin had already gone in, and unless he was willing to tell her, she'd never know what had happened.

She tries to look busy by pulling at her clothes. She had grabbed some food, but didn't even touch it, only took sips of a water bottle; and even there she only took minimal gulps. She begins chewing on the side of her tongue as she waits.

After about fifteen minutes, they call her name. Sky waits until Kalvin comes back into the dining hall that she stands.

"How'd it go?" she asks.

"Good. You're up. Good luck." He says with a kiss on her cheek.

She blinks and holds his hand for a few seconds before walking into the gymnasium.

Walking in, she greets the Gamemakers with a sweet smile. "Afternoon Ms. Henderson." One greets her.

"Hello." She replies back.

Without another word she instantly goes over to the archery station. Stringing her bow and slinging a matching quiver over her shoulder, she takes her initial position at the center of the gymnasium. The shooting range consists of standard bull's-eyes and human silhouettes. Pulling back her string, Skylar skewers the dummy right in the heart. Then she severs the rope that holds the sandbag for boxing, and the bag splits open as it slams to the ground. Without pausing, she shoulder-rolls forward, comes up on one knee, and sends an arrow into one of the hanging lights high above the gymnasium floor. A shower of sparks bursts from the fixture.

It's excellent shooting. Skylar turns to the Gamemakers and they nod in approval.

Skylar then walks over to the shooting range where she was earlier and types something into the holographic screen. The lights dim as she takes her position on the platform. She can see some Gamemakers leaning forward in curiosity.

Skylar then pulls out a bandana and folds it and covers her eyes. She steadies her feet and takes a deep breath.

While she can't see it, the laser lights project the image of a small rat scurrying across the floor. Skylar draws an arrow and lets it loose. She hears the sound of it making contact with the hologram and instinctively loads another one.

The platform vibrates, the creature sounded bigger. The size of a opossum. Skylar whirls around and shoots. The arrow penetrates it. After several demonstrations of this, with different sizes of animals – from what she can feel, bird, raccoon, skunk, squirrel.

When she feels her arrows are all gone, she calls clear and senses the lights growing brighter. She removes her blindfold and blinks to get her eyes to adjust. Tucking it away into her back pocket, she looks to the Gamemakers whose eyes are wide and some smiling.

"Thank you, Ms. Henderson." Someone in the back speaks.

"Thank you." she answers back with another smile and places the bow back and walks out.

After meeting up with Kalvin, Sky wastes no time in running up to him and coiling her arms around his neck. She's squealing and giggling, a smile on her face.

"I take it you impressed them?" he asks smiling in return.

"I think I did. I hope." She replies. "Come on, let's get back."

Skylar takes his hand and guides him out of the dining hall, away from judgmental eyes. Her smile stays even as they ride the elevator and when she tries to calm herself down and not to get her hopes high. But the look on their faces was too legit; they really didn't expect to see that coming from a mere girl from 9.

Now it would appear that she had the advantage. Thanks to her stylist's effort in her designs, and now her secret skill now exposed to the Gamemakers, no doubt they'd think that'd made for impressive shows.

The only downside, she might've mad herself another target for the other tributes if she were to get a higher score, in turn for trying to get sponsors. Then again, if she were to get as extravagant gifts as she'd seen in the past, none of what the tributes thought would matter.

At dinner, Skylar tries to simplify what she did in order to not upstage Kalvin. Her appetite returning with a force, she helps herself to some chicken smothered in a cream of mushroom soup. Afterwards, they go to the living room to watch the scores announced. The Careers naturally get in the eight-to-ten range. Silk manages to pull a seven. No doubt she used some of the moves she taught her, and Stagger an eight.

District 9 come up, and Kalvin manages to make an eight, so no doubt he showed them his combat moves. Sky's heart is rapidly beating as her face comes up on the screen. Then they flash a ten under her name.

Sky's eyes widen, Hanyo lets out a squeal and everyone is slapping her on the back and cheering and congratulating her. Kalvin hugs her and kisses her cheek while she's still in shock. She, and Kalvin, managed to average in the same range as the Careers.

Even if that made them targets, it showed them they have what it takes.

Silk watches the rest of the scoring, her number and Skylar's number still flashing in her mind. The difference, the meaning, the possibilities. She'd pulled a ten while Silk managed a seven.

Betrayal. That's the first thing she feels, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust in the first place. Silk knows it's because of the fact that Skylar had been holding out on all of them. Apparently her skill had to have been impressive if she managed to level up with the Careers. On the other hand, they were tributes, so Silk's seemingly not at all surprised that Skylar's been withholding a secret. They're tributes. One of them is going to wind up dying after all.

But Silk still seemingly allowed a small flicker of dying hope to reside in her chest.

Maybe Skylar forgot to tell anyone, or didn't think it was worth mentioning. Despite it being wishful thinking, Silk still hopes for it to be true.

After she and Stagger congratulate each other, a rather awkward moment, Silk escapes to her room as quickly as possible and burrows down under her covers. The stress of the day has worn her out. She drifts off, reprieved.

At dawn, she lies in bed for a while, watching the sun come up on a beautiful morning. Soon Tula is at her door knocking, reminding her there's another "big, big, big day!" ahead. Tomorrow will be the televised interviews. No doubt the whole team will have their hands full readying her for that.

Silk gets up and takes a quick shower, being a bit more careful about the buttons she hits, and heads down to the dining room. Stagger, Tula, and Vobman are huddled around the table talking in hushed voices. It seems odd, but her hunger wins out over curiosity and she loads up her plate with breakfast before she joins them.

Blueberry pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes. A tureens of fruit. A lovely glass at orange juice. Silk's shoveled about halfway through the mound when she realizes Stagger's looking at her. Silk look to him and he smirks.

"What?" she asks.

"Just picturing what you'd look like in a dress." He winks.

Silk rolls her eyes, takes a big gulp of orange juice and wipes her mouth.

"What's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"That's right." Says Vobman.

"Okay, so what's the schedule?"

"You'll each have four hours with Tula for presentation and four with me for content," says Vobman, directing towards each of them. "You start with Tula, Silk."

Silk can't imagine what Tula will have to teach her that could take four hours, but she got her working down to the last minute. They go to her room and she puts Silk in a full-length gown and high-heeled shoes, not the ones she'll be wearing for the actual interview, and instructs her on walking. The shoes are the worst part. Silk's never worn high heels and can't get used to essentially wobbling around on the balls of her feet. But Tula runs around in them full-time, so Silk's determined that is she can do it, so can Silk.

The dress poses another problem. It keeps tangling around her shoes so, of course, she hitches it up, and then Tula swoops down on her like a hawk, smacking her hands and yelling. "Not above the ankle!" when Silk finally conquers walking, there's still sitting, posture – apparently gestures, and smiling. Smiling is mostly about smiling more. Tula makes Silk say a hundred banal phrases starting with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. By lunch, the muscles in Silk's cheeks are twitching from overuse.

"Well, that's the best I can do." Tula says with a sigh. "Just remember, Silk, you want the audience to like you."

"Got it." Silk says aggravated.

"And if that's hard, just try and pretend." Tula says.

"I'm going to go eat." Silk then kicks off her heels and stomp down to the dining room, hiking up her skirt up to her thighs. The pain in her feet making her so miffed.

Stagger and Vobman seem in pretty good moods, so Silk's thinking the content session should be an improvement over the morning. After lunch, Vobman takes her into the sitting room, directs her to the couch and then just frowns at her for a while.

"What?" Silk finally asks.

"I'm trying to figure out what to do with you." He says. "How we're going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like a star. Gaya made you look unforgettable. You averaged your training score. People are interested, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors."

Having watched the other tributes all her life, Silk knows there's truth to what he's saying. I you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

"What's Stagger's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?" Silk says.

"Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally." Says Vobman. "Whereas you seem rather withdrawal from people. Seemingly hermetical."

"Yeah well that's what happens when your mom leaves when you're young. If I can't trust my own mother, then the rest is a waste of time." Silk says.

"And hostile."

"You know you guys have given me so many reasons to be cheery." Silk counters.

"Look, you don't have to please me. I'm not going to sponsor you. So pretend I'm the audience," says Vobman. "Try and appeal to me."

"Okay." Silk says taking a deep breath. Vobman takes the role of interviewer and Silk tries to answer his questions in a winning fashion. It's mediocre at best. All Silk can think of is how unjust the whole thing is, the Hunger Games. Why is she hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people she hates? The longer the interview goes on, the more her fury seems to rise to the surface, until she's snapping answers at Vobman.

"Alright, enough." He says. "I thought we had something there. What happened?"

"I'm sorry." Silk sighs. "I just started going into deep thought about everything and lost it."

Vobman chuckles. "Okay, let's try a different angle. You seem to have a, rather brittle sense of humor. But it's humor. We can work with that. But I still don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know, Silk."

"Well," Silk fidgets with her hands. "as you can imagine, I'm not really good at opening up to people."

"All I do know is that your mother abandoned you, and in turn you have trust issues." Vobman summarizes.

"So how do we turn that around?" Silk asks.

"Well, we could try and use sympathy. Say you made a promise to your mom."

"I can't. I hate her." Silk says.

"Well then, make something up. Make something up." says Vobman. "What about your dad?"

"I love my dad." Silk states.

"How about you imagine talking to him?" Vomban suggests.

"Then I might get too honest."

Vobman sighs. "Okay, try being, humble."

"Humble?" Silk echoes.

"If you don't want to talk about yourself, then compliment the people. Imagine your fathers' here, and you need to be on your best behavior. Just keep turning it back around. Talk about the food, the clothing. How nice the people are. How the city amazes you."

The next hours are agonizing. At once, it's clear Silk can't play as innocent. They try playing cocky, but it comes as arrogance. She's to "vulnerable" for ferocity. She's witty, but Vobman says it's not enough. But it's all they have since she' not sexy. Honest. Or mysterious.

By the end of the session, she's only witty.

"Well, we'll just have to work with it. Try tossing some humor in there and give the people a good first impression.

Silk has dinner in her room that night, ordering an outrageous number of delicacies, eating herself sick, and then taking out her at the Hunger Games, at her mother, at every living being in the Capital by smashing dishes around her room. She's never done it before, and was tempted many times by her father whenever they got into an argument, and it felt good.

When Stagger comes in, his eyes widen at the mess. "Just leave it! Leave it alone!" she yells.

Silk hates hi too, with his knowing reproachful eyes that charm here admittedly, and his inappropriate remarks. But instead of leaving the room, he sighs, closes the door behind him and goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp cloth and wipes Silk's face gently then cleans the blood from a broken plate off her hands. Why is he doing this? Why is she letting him?

"My practice failed today." She whimpers.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I can't seem to please anyone. Apparently I don't have a charming personality."

"Well you made me like you." He says.

"That's different." Silk dismisses.

"How?"

Silk releases a breathy laugh. "Despite your inappropriate nature, you're likable. I don't know, I really can't describe it."

"You don't have to."

They spend the next hour helping each other clean the rom. When all the garbage has been dropped down a disposal and the food cleaned away, he turns down her bed. Silk crawls in between the sheets like a five-year-old and lets him tuck her in. Then he goes.

For the first time, Silk wants him to stay. Until she falls asleep. To be there when she wakes up. She suddenly finds herself wanting his protection, even if he never had hers.

In the morning, it's not Stagger, but her prep team who are hanging over her. The lessons with Tula and Vobman are over. This day belongs to Gaya. He's her last hope. Maybe he can make her look so wonderful, no one will acre what comes out of her mouth.

The team works on Silk until late afternoon, turning her skin to glowing marble, stenciling pattern on her arms, painting switchboard designs on her twenty perfect nails. Then Mtindo goes to work on her hair, weaving strands of red-orange into a pattern that begins at her right ear, wraps around her head, and then falls into gently tendril curls around her shoulders. They erase her face with a layer of pale makeup and draw her features back out. Huge ice green eyes, pale pink lips, lashes the glint with hints of red and silver when she blinks. Finally, they cover her in a shimmering silver dust.

Then Gaya enters with what Silk assumes is her dress, but she can't see it because it's covered. "Close your eyes." He orders.

Silk feels the silken inside as they slip id down over her naked body, then the weight. It must be forty pounds. Silk clutches Tiska's hand as she blindly steps into her shores, glad to find they're at least two inches shorter than the pair Tula had made her practice in. There's some adjusting and fidgeting, then silence.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Silk asks.

"Okay. Open them." Says Gaya.

The creature standing before her in the full-length mirror has come from another world. A digital world where the circuits run through the vey veins of its inhabitants. Because her dress, her dress is alive as small specks of light reflect and stream through the intricate designs like a switchboard alive with electricity. Her dress is similar to the outfit she wore at the chariot ride, with minor differences. It was a sleeveless allover glitter mesh dress with a ruched bodice. The most notable being the fact that the circuitry patterns are red and glow orange, as opposed to the blue ones that glow cyan. The circuitry is also much more complex than before and sports a "V"-shaped symbol on the bodice of the dress and on the skirt.

She's not pretty, she not a woman. She's as beautifully infectious and deceiving as a computer virus.

For a while, everyone just stares at her. "Oh my god, Gaya." She finally whispers. "Thank you."

He smiles and hugs her, careful not to get the makeup on himself. The prep team screams in admiration.

Gaya dismisses the team and has Silk move around in the dress and shoes, which ad infinitely more manageable than Tula's. The dress hangs in such a way that she doesn't have to life she skirt when she walks, leaving her with one less thing to worry about.

"So, all ready for the interview then?" asks Gaya. Silk can see by the look on his face that he's been talking with Vobman.

"I'm horrible at this. No matter how much I try. I can't be one of those people." she says.

Gaya thinks about this for a moment. "Why don't you be yourself?"

"Epic fail." She says. "Apparently I'm too hostile."

"Well you can be, around certain people. But I don't find you so. The prep team loves you. And you seem to have won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizens, they can't stop talking about you. No one can help but admire your spirit."

Spirit. This is a new thought. Not sure what it means, but it suggests she's a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It's not as if she's never friendly. Maybe she doesn't go around loving everyone she meets, maybe her smiles are hard to come by, but she does care for some people.

Gaya takes Silk's icy hands in his warm ones. "Suppose when you answer a questions, you think you're addressing a friend back home. Who would your best friend be?"

"I suppose my dad. Only I would never be telling my father all this, he'd punish me."

"What about Skylar? Could you think of her as a friend?"

Despite the result thing she had, of all the people Silk's met since she left home, Skylar is by far her favorite. She liked her right off, and she did show a side of caring and gentleness Silk rarely saw in any other. "I guess so, but -"

"She'll be sitting in the front row with the other stylists. You'll be able to look right at her. When you're asked a question, find her, and answer it as honestly as possible." Says Gaya.

"Won't it seem weird, me constantly looking at her?" Silk asks.

"I don't believe so. You two seem to get along. And she seems to be understanding enough." Gaya says. "You'll try it?"

Silk nods. It's a plan. Or at least a straw to grasp at.

Too soon it's time to go. The interviews takes place on a stage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once Silk leaves her room, it will be only minutes until she's in front of the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem.

As Gaya turns the doorknob, Silk stops his hand. "Gaya . . ." Completely overcome with stage fright.

"Remember, they already love you," he says gently. "Just be yourself."

They meet up with the rest of the District 9 crowd at the elevator. Stagger looks striking in a blue suit with circuit accents. While they looks well together, it's a relief not to be dressed identically. Vobman and Tula are fancied up for the occasion. Silk accepts both their compliments. When the elevator opens, the other tributes are being lined up to take the stage. All twenty-four of them sit in a big arc throughout the interviews.

Silk's eyes search and find Skylar. Even more beautiful than the chariot ride.

She had on an elegant strapless tulle ball gown featuring all over beautifully detailed mixed-metallic lace appliques. The Chantilly lace sweetheart neckline gown features a full A-line skirt with delicate horsehair trim detail. All over stunning tulle overlay with sequin lace appliques adds drama. A flattering ruched and embroidered bodice detail helps create a stunning silhouette, and an eye-catching ruffle skirt adds dimension and beautiful movement. Her golden-bronze arms coated in blush-pink lace sleeves, her thick dark hair piled atop her head beneath bands of wheat brow, secured with flowers and long drapes of black ribbon. She looked like a queen, her full dress a shimmering blush color, accented with black. Around her neck, her Celtic cross.

Silk can guess her angle. Innocent.

She looks to Silk and her eyes widen. A smile of pure happiness at the sight of her dress makes Silk smile in return. Skylar waves and Silk waves in return. At least Silk's near the tributes who go first. This way she has their attention again and she actually just wanted to get this over with. And through the rest of it, she'll listen to how witty, funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else is.

The tributes walk single-file to their seats and take their places.

Just stepping on the stage makes Skylar's breathing rapid ad shallow. She can feel her pulse pounding in her temples. It's a relief to get to her chair, between the heels and her legs shaking, she's afraid of tripping.

Although evening is falling, the City Circle is brighter than a summer's day. An elevated seating unit has been set up for prestigious guests, with the stylists commanding the front row. The cameras will turn to them when the crowd is reacting to their handiwork. A barge balcony off a building to the right has been reserved for the Gamemakers. Television crews have claimed most of the other balconies. But the City Circle and the avenues that feed into it are completely packed with people. Standing room only. At homes and community halls around the country, every television set is turned on. Every citizen of Panem is turned on. There will be no blackouts tonight.

Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for more than forty years, bounces onto the stage. It's a little scary because appearances has been virtually unchanged during all that time. Same face under a coating of pure white makeup. Same hairstyle that he dyes a different color for each Hunger Games. Same ceremonial suit, midnight blue dotted with a thousand tiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars. They do surgery in the Capitol, to make people appear younger and thinner. In the districts, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person, you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren't scraping by like the majority of citizens. But in the Capitol it's different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. A round belly isn't a sign of success.

This year, Caesar's hair is powder blue and his eyes lids and lips are coated in the same hue. He looks freakish but less frightening than he did last year when his color was crimson and he seemed to be bleeding. Caesar tells a few jokes to warm up the audience but the gets down to business.

The girl from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stage to join Caesar for her interview. You can tell her mentor didn't have any trouble coming up with an angle for her. With that flowing blonde hair, emerald green eyes, her body tall and lush . . . she's sexy all the way.

Each interview only lasts three minutes. Then a buzzer goes off and the next tribute is up. Admittedly, Caesar really does his best to make the tributes shine. He's friendly, tries to set the nervous ones at ease, laughs at lame jokes, and can turn a weak response into a memorable one by the way he reacts.

Skylar sits like a lady. The way Astrid showed her, as the districts slip by. 2, 3, Silk continually looking in Sky's direction as she answered Caesar's questions. Sky gave her a reassuring smile each time. It seemed to ease Silk's nerves and her overall performance seemed natural. Her dress simply breathtaking. She even giggled, which she's done maybe never her lifetime. Earning herself some sympathy when she opened up to the crowd about her mother leaving, but never saying to where. Pretty good. Vague, but enough to keep the audience interested.

Stagger easily winning over the females of the crowd with his inappropriate yet, extremely seductive talk. Even a couple of the female tributes were giggling, and a girl from somewhere in the crowd shouting, 'I love you!'

The entire crowd roaring with laughter.

Then 4. Everyone seems to be playing up some angle. The Goth boy from District 5 sly and elusive. Sky feels tempted to bounce her knee, but still showing weak bounced in her mind and she resisted, feeling even that cannot relax her. 6, 7, 8. Sky's palms are sweating like crazy. And then they're calling Skylar Henderson, and she feels herself, as if in a dream, standing and making her way center stage. She shakes Caesar's outstretched hand, and he has good grace not to immediately wipe off his hand on his suit.

"So, Skylar, the Capitol must be quite a change from District 9. What's impressed you most since you got here?"

Sky smiles blushing slightly. "All the cute boy tributes I saw on my way here."

Caesar makes a shocked face with his mouth in a perfect circle. The crowd 'Ooohs' and laughs, most of the male tributes, even the Careers laugh and smile; the cameras no doubt giving them as slice of screen time.

"Oh you're not wrong there. Some of the best men I've seen in my years." Caesar looks to her and she smiles brightly in return. "I don't roll that way but if I did, I know where I'd go!" the crowd squeals and the faces of the male tributes are shock with smiles. This is what she means Caesar tries to help you out. "You're partner's a looker as well."

"Caesar, my parents are watching." Skylar giggles like a schoolgirl. Her hands folded in her lap and angling her head so it mimics bashfulness. The camera cuts to Kalvin who looking broad and masculine in his suit, smiled with a chuckle, his teeth pearl white.

"Don't worry don't worry, I've got my eyes on him. Now, Skylar," he says confidentially. "When you came out on that chariot, my heart fluttered. What did you think of the costume?"

"Oh it was extraordinary." She replies. "I mean, Hanyo, my stylist, she's a miracle worker. I mean, she actually made me look pretty."

The cameras cut to Hanyo and the crow applauds. It was a division between for Hanyo, or for Skylar. The crowd shouting reassurances to Skylar.

Skylar goes on. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I mean the way she made the fabric ripple, and how she made such a simple district look exquisite. I mean I can't even believe I'm wearing this! And the fact that she made me attractive, for the time being . . ."

The crowd cheers her on and Caesar laughs, a real laugh.

Silk's mouth drops. She was good.

"Now, I must say, your training score. Impressive. A ten. Now not to undermine your district, but in the past, many of the tributes never advanced that well."

This genuinely perks Sky's curiosity. "Really."

"Oh my yes. Can you tell what had happened there?"

Sky looks to the Gamemakers on the balcony and bites her lip. "Um . . . all I can say is that I think it wasn't what they were expecting."

The camera s are right on the Gamemakers, who are chuckling and nodding.

"Aw, come on," Caesar says as if in actual pain. "Tell us. Give me the deets!"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it." Sky says hands raised in an open-palmed gesture.

Caesar flops in his chair. "Very secretive." He turns to the Gamemakers. "By my blue hair I will have vengeance!" the crowd laughs. "Anyway, now if I may ask, when you were called at the reaping, we saw someone deeply upset."

Her sister. Skylar swallows, her mouth gone dry as sawdust.

"Yes."

"Who was that?" He asks, his mood quieter.

"My sister." Sky replies.

"How was it, saying goodbye. And did you say anything?"

You can hear a pin drop in the City Circle. An icy rigidity taking over Skylar's body. Her muscles tense. When she speaks, her voice seems to have dropped an octave. "It was rough, as expected, and I did promise my dad I wouldn't lose hope. He, empowered me to not count myself out just yet." Her hand flutters to the Celtic cross on her neck. Her thumb running over it as to calm herself. "And they gave me this, so I can still, imagine I'm home. I've never been away from home before, so this really helped me."

He voice cracks at the end, and she covers her mouth as she swallows a possible sob. The crowd 'Ahs' in sympathy. "What's that?"

"A Celtic cross. The sapphire stone means faithfulness." Sky explains. "If, if I don't make it, and I'm sorry to sound down, but please promise me they'll get this back."

Skylar looks to Caesar with those beautiful, innocent hazel eyes. Caesar nods and gives her hand a squeeze. The buzzer goes off, startling nearly the entire Circle.

"Well, were out of time. Best of luck, Skylar." Caesar raises her hand and the crowd cheers her on.

"Thank you." Sky speaks, but it's morphed from the clapping.

The applause continues long after she's seated. She looks to Astrid and Hadrian. They give her a subtle thumbs up and a beaming smile. After Kalvin's time up, roar of the crowd is deafening. Districts 10, 11, and 12 are simply acknowledged compared to the clapping of 9.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators. The crowd slows the stylists and mentors and chaperones, so they only have the other for company. Kalvin and Skylar ride together, and as Silk spots them she calls their names. The doors close and she's worried she missed them, but Kalvin's hand holds the door.

"Thanks." She says smiling, stepping in. Stagger following behind.

For the ride, each girl avoided talking about the secrets they had kept. Skylar with her secret talent, and Silk with her mother abandoning her. Sky and Stagger laugh about the girls who shouted to him from the crowd, and Caesar's compliment to Kalvin. Once Silk and Stagger leave on their floor, Sky and Kalvin have stepped off their elevator when they're swarmed by their stylists. They chime and squeak and squeal in happiness.

As they're guided to the smell of dinner, Sky takes Kalvin's hand to stop him.

"What?" he asks.

Sky doesn't say anything as she pulls him in a hug. She rests her head on his chest, taking in the smell of his cologne and natural scent. He wraps his arms around her, his height making him tall enough to wrap his arms around her neck and rest his head in her hair.

He leans away and cups her cheek. His lips connect to hers, and Sky makes a mental note to thank Hanyo for smearing her lips with a strawberry flavored gloss. Sky tilts her head and deepens the kiss, Kalvin pulling her into him. The firmness of his muscles relaxes her.

They part and she giggles, wiping the corner of his mouth smudged with her gloss.

"Sorry." She giggles.

"Leave it." He winks taking her hand.

They catch up to everyone at the table and take their seats. They start the cream and rose-petal soup. By the time they're finished, they're replaying the interviews. Silk seems sweet and spirited, Skylar innocent and charming both girls made beautiful by their stylists hands, desirable by their male partners. Stagger actually charming and then Kalvin winning as a sensitive and mysterious boy. And there he is laughing as Caesar mentions his handsomeness.

When the anthem finishes and the screen goes dark, a hush falls on the room. Tomorrow at dawn, they will be roused and prepared for the arena. The actual games don't start until ten because so any of the Capitol residents rise late. But the tributes make an early start. There is no telling how far they will travel to the arena that has been prepared for this year's Games.

The mentors and escorts will not be joining them. As soon as they leave here, they'll be at the Games Headquarters, hopefully madly signing up their sponsors, working out a strategy on how and when to deliver the gifts to them. Their stylists will travel with them to the very spot from which they will be launched into the arena. Still final good-byes must be said here.

Astrid gives them both goodbyes, actual tears in her eyes, wishing both of them well. Thanks them for being the best tributes is has ever been her privilege to sponsor. And then, because it's Astrid and she's apparently required by law to say something awful, she add. "I wouldn't be at all surfside if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!"

Then she kisses each of them on the cheek and hurries out, overcome with either the emotional parting or the possible improvement of her fortunes.

Hadrian, hands in his pockets, stands and smiles at them. Skylar is the first to immediately walk into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms around her waist and burrows into her neck.

"I'm so proud of both of you. You've made it this far, and so far, things are promising." He says.

"Any final words?" Kalvin asks.

"Well, you two seem to have a strategy going on, so I'd roll with it. Personally I think you both can survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, but if you feel you can't, don't leave without virtual nothing, try and get a pack on the outer rim. No doubt there will be weapons at the very mouth."

They both nod in unison. With final hugs, Sky and Kalvin head to their rooms.

Sky stops Kalvin again. "You'll have my back right?" she asks sounding more desperate than she intended.

"Of course I will." Kalvin holds her head. "After the time, find me. And we'll go for whatever weapons we can get. If we can't get you a bow, someone else will and then we can kill them for it."

Sky nods and takes deep breaths.

"We can do this." Kalvin says. Then he kisses her forehead and goes to bed for the night. As he walks away, her fingers one by one release his hand.

Silk after watching the replays is the first to stand to say her final goodbyes to Tula and Vobman. She accepts Tula's hug and squeezes her as she starts to cry. She says her goodbyes and says they were amazing tributes, and hopes they'll be better next year. But with a genuine smile, she leaves in sniffles and fanning her eyes. Vobman hugs Stagger with hard pats on the back, and Silk gives him her best smile and hugs him goodbye.

"Thank you." She mumbles.

"Stay alive out there you two." He weakly smiles in return.

Dismissed to their rooms, Silk finds her covers drawn back by the maids. She takes a shower and scrubs the sliver paint, the makeup, the scent of beauty from her body. All that remains of the prep-team's efforts is her perfect circuit nails.

Silk pulls on a thick, fleecy nightgown and climbs into bed. Her mind can't stop trying to imagine exactly what terrain they'll be thrown into. Swamp? Forest? A frigid wasteland? All of the above? What will the climate be like? What traps have the Gamemakers hidden to liven up the slower moments? And then there are her tributes.

Despite her rising anxiety, Silk wills her body to sleep, for every moment she gives into fatigue will be an invitation to death.

The silver bracelet of her father becomes cool against her burning skin. She begins to slightly sweat underneath the layers. Suddenly her door opens and she snaps her eyes shut. The sound of familiar footsteps nearly make her smile beneath the covers.

One corner of her bed compresses and she tries to stay calm as she feels his lips on her forehead. Then once he leaves, the room feels colder as the warmth of his being fades off.

Silk burrows deeper into the covers.

And soon once again, she's rewarded with sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Silk doesn't see Stagger in the morning as Gaya comes to collect her before dawn. As she dresses in a simple shift, she follows Gaya to the elevator.

For all the tributes, their final dressing and preparations will be done in the catacombs under the arena itself.

A hovercraft appears out of thin air, and a ladder drops down. Silk places her hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's as if she's frozen. Some sort of current glues her to the ladder while she's lifted safely inside.

She expects the ladder to release her, but she's still stuck when a woman in a white coat approaches her carrying a syringe. "This is just your tracker, Silk. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it." She says.

_Sill? I'm a statue_. Silk thinks. But that doesn't prevent her from feeling the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking device deep under the skin on the inside of her forearm. Now the Gamemakers will always be able to trace her whereabouts in the arena. Wouldn't want to lose a tribute.

As soon as the tracker's in place, the ladder releases her. The woman disappears and Gaya is retrieved from the roof. A young boy comes in and directs them to a room where breakfast has been laid out. Despite the tension in her stomach, Silk eats as much as she can, although none of the delectable food makes any impression on her. She's so nervous, she could be eating coal dust. The thoughts of seeing Skylar and Stagger again in the arena, wither trying to help her, or kill her. Silk has prepared herself either way. The one thing that distracts her at all is the view from the windows as they sail over the city and then to the wilderness beyond.

This is what birds see. Only they're free and safe. Very opposite of her.

The ride lasts about half an hour before the windows black out, suggesting they're near the arena. They follow instructions to her destination, a chamber for her preparation. In the Capitol, they call it the Launch Room. In the districts, it's referred to as the Stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter.

Everything is brand-new, Silk will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Rom. The arenas are historic sites, preserved after the Games. Popular destinations for Capitol residents to visits, to vacation. Go for a month, rewatch the Games, tour the catacombs, visit the sites where the deaths took place. You can even take part in the reenactments.

They say the food is excellent.

Silk struggles to keep her breakfast down as she showers and cleans her teeth. Gaya doe her hair in natural-looking waves around her shoulders. Then the clothes arrive, the same for every tribute.

None of the stylists have a say in the outfits, does not even know what will be in the package, but he help Silk dress in the undergarments, a long-sleeve red jumpsuit that covers her from the shoulder to ankle, a sturdy brown belt, a long velvet red cloak that slightly puddles at her feet, and a matching head cover that conceals to her shoulders and a simple gold headband going across her forehead.

The boots, worn over skintight socks, reach just below the knee. Soft leather, narrow flexible rubber sole with treads. Good for running. The cloak has intricate detailed designs on it, and a simple symbol was etched in the fabric, falling just at the base of her chest.

She's finished when Gaya pulls out the silver band of her father. She'd nearly forgotten about it. Placing it around her wrist, Gaya fidgets with the cloak before stepping back. "There, you're all set. Move around. Make sure everything feels comfortable."

Silk walks, runs in a circle, swing her arms about. "Yeah, it's fine. Fits perfectly."

"Then there's nothing to do but wait for the call," says Gaya. "Unless you think you can eat more."

Silk turns down food but accepts a glass of water that she takes tiny sips of as they wait on a couch.

Skylar doesn't chew on her nails or lip, so she resorts to gnawing on the inside of her cheek. Soon the taste of blood fills her mouth.

Nervousness seeps into terror as she anticipates what is to come. She could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. Not even. Her fingers nervously trace the hard lump on her forearm where a woman injected the tracking device. She presses on it, even though it hurts, she presses on ti so hard a small bruise begins to form.

"Do you want to talk, Skylar?" asks Hanyo.

Skylar shakes her head but after a moment holds out her hand to her. Hanyo encloses it in both of hers. And this is how they sit until a pleasant female voice announces it's time to prepare for launch. Skylar starts to visibly shake as looks to the launch pad.

Still clenching one of Hanyo's hands, Skylar walks over and stands on the circular metal plate. "Remember what Hadrian said. Get what you can, then get out of there. The rest will come." She says. Skylar nods.

Hanyo leans in and kisses her on the forehead. "Good luck, my little flower."

And then a glass cylinder is lowering around Skylar, breaking their handhold, cutting Hanyo off from her. She taps her fingers under her chin. Head high. Sky lifts her chin and stands as straight as she can.

Gaya leads Silk over to the launch pad, and Silk steps inside, making sure her cape doesn't get caught in the glass cylinder as it lowers around her. The sudden enclosure nearly cutting off her breathing as the nerves wreck her body.

The cylinder begins to rise.

For fifteen seconds, she's in darkness and then she can feel the metal plate pushing her out of the cylinder, into the open air. For a moment, her eyes are dazzled by the bright sunlight and she's conscious only of a strong wind with the dry smell of sand.

Her heart drops.

Then she hears the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, as his voice booms all around her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-seventh Hunger Games begin!"

Sixty seconds.

That's how long the tributes are required to stand on their metal circles before the sound of a gong releases them. Step off before the minute is up, and land mines blow your legs off. Sixty seconds to take in the ring of tributes al equidistant from the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail, the mouth of which is at least twenty feet high, spilling over with the things that will give them life here in the arena. Food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, garments, fire starters. Strewn around the Cornucopia are other supplies, their value decreasing the father they are from the horn. For instance, only a few steps from Silk's feet like a three-foot square of plastic. Certainly it could be of some use in a downpour. But there in the mouth, she can see a tent pack that would protect her from almost any sort of weather. If she had the guts to go in and fight for it against the other twenty-three tributes. Which she has been instructed not to do.

They're all on a flat, open stretch of ground. A plain of hard-packed sand. Behind the tributes across from her, she can see a mountain, fluffy clouds, and a bright heavenly beacon shooting from its crevice. To her right is sand. To her left and back, more sand, sparse ruins of an ancient civilization, sunken into the sane and chipped apart to mimic erosion by time.

The temptation is so strong when she sees the bounty before her. And Skylar knows that if she doesn't get it, someone else will. Just as Kalvin had said. That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. Something catches her eye. There, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a sheath of arrows and a recurve bow, already strung and just waiting to be engaged. _That's mine_, she thinks. _It's meant for me_.

Skylar scans the circle of tributes, looking for Kalvin. He's only five tributes down from her left. Scanning the packs in the space between them, she can easily pick up some even before she gets to Kalvin. She's fast, she can sprint fast through the forty-yard length, her legs built from walking her dog everyday over the summer. She knows she can reach ti first, but then the question is, will she and Kalvin be able to get out of there?

By the time she'll have scrambled up packs and grabbed the weapons, others will have reached the horn, and one or two she might be able to pick off, but say there's a dozen, at that close range, they could take her down with spears and the clubs. Or their own powerful fists.

Still, she won't be the only target. She's betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored a ten in training, to take out their more fierce adversaries.

Skylar makes the decision to get the weapon. Since that's the very weapon that might be her salvation. And she only sees one bow in the pile.

The minute is almost up.

Ten seconds left.

Skylar positions her feet to run, but not toward the pile or the bow, but Kalvin. When suddenly she notices Silk. Halfway across the circle, nearly blocked by the Cornucopia.

Eight seconds.

She finds Stagger six tributes off to Silk's left.

Seven seconds.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Kalvin nods his head.

Two.

Skylar braces herself to launch forward.

One.

The gong sounds and Skylar charges straight for Kalvin. Avoiding collisions with other tributes, she keeps her eyes forward, turning her head every few seconds. She snatches a black backpack on her way to Kalvin who meets her halfway. They barely touch as they both make sharp turns toward the Cornucopia. Skylar's feet taking her farther ahead towards the bow, the boots preventing her from slipping on the sand. She looks to her right and left, no one so far, but ahead, she catches a knife whizzing towards her. In a split second, she brings the pack up and hears the knife embed in it. Lowering it without stopping, she sees the girls from 2 and body-slams her to the side.

Sky rips the knife free and holds the hilt tight as she advances to the bow. Within nine more yards, she sees the bow still untouched. The male tribute from 7 is on her left, he readies to tackle her, but at the last minute she pivots and whirls to the side and slashes his side. He stumbles but she keeps going.

Still frantically looking around, Kalvin is doing his job, still two steps behind Skylar, another pack on his back and one in his hand.

The bow's within arm's reach and she yanks it free.

She pulls an arrow from the sheath and arms her bow. Instantly after the arrow flies she slings the sheath over her shoulder, her mind racing, she grabs a belt of knives and sprints out. The arrow had lodged into the head of another tribute.

Already other tributes have reached to Cornucopia and are spreading out to attack. Yanking the arrow free, Kalvin runs head and Sky still jerks her head from side to side, though no one seems to be advancing them.

Silk runs the opposite of the other tributes and looks around, snatching whatever pack the tributes over-looked. She manages to pick a pack the color of much green. As she's rounding to the backside of the horn, she finds Stagger with another pack and a knife in hand. Another tribute advances from behind, and Silk instantly closes the distance between them, whacking her pack into the head of the tribute.

He falls and Stagger looks to her, smirking, "Aw, you do care." He says.

"Not the time pretty boy!" Silk retaliates.

As Silk starts to head out, she finds the Switch weapon dispersed to the side. _I need that, it's for me!_ She charges forward, but a boy tribute from 10 grasps it just as she does. Instantly the boy slips to the ground. That's when Silk sees the knife in his back. Yes, the boy from 1, ten yards away, running towards her, one hand clutching a half-dozen knives. Silk's seen him throw in training. He never misses. And Silk's his next target.

All the general fear she's been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this boy, this predator who might kill her in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through her and she slings the pack over one shoulder, snatches the Switch in time and runs full-speed ahead. Nearly slipping on the sand as she runs.

At the edge of the sand dunes, Silk turns back for one instant to survey the field. About a dozen or so tributes are hacking away at one another at the horn. Several lie dead already on the sand. Those who have taken flight are disappearing behind dunes opposite of her.

Silk hasn't seen Skylar since the countdown. The last she checked, she had bolted for the horn with Kalvin. She didn't see her grab a weapon, but Silk knows she had her eyes on one. Silk fears she's already dead, but something more tells her she survived and is now wandering around either near or far from her. Gripping the Switch, Silk lets herself rejoice and smile as she managed to get a weapon. A weapon just for her.

She alternates between jogging and walking, but as she was about to head on down a dune, Stagger shoots out in front of her. "Hey!"

He chucks a knife at her, before Silk even has time to react. In an instant, it whizzes by her ear and it lands in the chest of a tribute sneaking behind her Silk look to him in shock, then to Stagger.

He's breathing heavy so he's been following her. "Now we're even."

As Silk looks back to the boy, she feels bile rise at the back of her throat. She swallows and looks away as Stagger pulls the knife free, the sound a sickening wet slosh noise.

"Come on!" Stagger grips her wrist and Silk's feet automatically move while her mind is still numb in shock.

She stays quiet as they alternate between jogging and walking, putting as much distance between themselves and their competitors. Stagger's knife, though bloody, has a long sharp blade, serrated near the handle, which will make it handy for sawing things. Silk notices Stagger has grabbed a purple pack and two large machetes. They don't dare to stop to examine the contents of their packs yet. They just keep moving, pausing only to check for pursuers.

The days of gorging herself have paid off. She's got staying power even though she's short on sleep. She doesn't break Stagger's hold on her as they travel the dunes. There was sand in every direction. Rising hills and smooth plains. Being with Stagger is surprisingly rejuvenating.

Silk's glad to have her partner despite their overall relationship. His protection making her feel, safe. That same feeling of safe she only had with her father. She slightly smiles despite the illusion because they're probably on screen right now. There are so many deaths to show the first day that a couple tributes trekking through the sand isn't much to look at. But they'll show enough of them to let people know they're alive, uninjured and on the move. One of the heaviest days of betting is the opening, when the initial casualties come in. but that can't compare to what happens as the field shrinks to a handful of players.

As Silk slowly comes out of her trance, and the adrenaline making its final rounds through her system, the soreness in her muscles soon mixes with the nausea in her stomach. Killing someone was really so much easier if they didn't have a face and a bull's-eye on their chest. She focuses on walking, her hand interlaced with Stagger's, thinking of something to shatter the silence and take her mind off of the sick in her stomach.

"Did you see Skylar?" she finally asks.

They slow their trek so she's level with him. "Yeah," he says. "I saw her and Kalvin heading west of the horn. They got a good amount of stuff with them. Sky got her bow."

Relief floods Silk to know Sky's still alive and armed. Which is ridiculous, considering they're tributes, but also good because if they are still allies, then Sky will practically be unstoppable with her bow. It's late afternoon when they begin to hear the canons. Each shot represents a dead tribute. The fighting must've finally stopped at the Cornucopia. They never collect the bloodbath bodies until the killers have dispersed. On the opening day, they don't eve fire cannons until the initial fighting's over because it's too hard to keep track of the fatalities.

Silk and Stagger pause, panting, as they count the shots. They boom on and on until they reach eleven. Eleven dead in all. Thirteen left to play. Silk wonders about Skylar. Has she lasted through the day? They'll know in a few hours. When they project the dead's images into the sky for the rest of them to see.

If it weren't for Stagger's reassurance about spotting Sky, Silk would be overwhelmed by the thought that she might've been dead already. Then again, it would be better if she's already gone. Not wanting to end up with the unpleasant talk of killing her.

"So what'd you get?" Stagger asks.

Silk looks to him eyeing her Switch. "Something Sky taught me how to use. It's called a Switch."

"Ah, cool." He suddenly chuckles. "You know, I still haven't heard my thank you."

"You didn't thank me." Silk retorts.

"Thank you, Silk." He formally says.

"Thank you, Stagger." She replies, mimicking his tone.

The two softly chuckle as Silk continues to looks back for pursuers. "So what do we do now?" she asks.

"We need to try and find water. We won't last long without it. But we should check to see what we have." He says and they stop their walking and plop on the sand.

Silk suddenly has an awful thought. What if there isn't any water source here? This _is_ a desert. And even if they did, who's to say it's only salt water?

"Are you even sure they'll have water here?" Silk asks.

"Sure. Why wouldn't they. The last time they had a desert, they made sure to add water. Remember?"

Silk remembers. There was a dessert so dry and stiff that the tributes died from heat exhaustion, heat stroke or dehydration. Not very entertaining deaths for the Capitol people. So Silk joins him and unzips hers while Stagger unhooks the straps to his. Silk can feel the sturdily fabric of hers, and the much green color will make it easier for camouflage.

"So, what are symptoms of dehydration?" Silk asks.

Stagger pauses rummaging through his pack and looks up, thinking. "Uh, well for a few days, we'll be able to function but with unpleasant symptoms, then deteriorate into helplessness, and be dead in a week, tops."

"Oh," Silk mumbles.

She carefully lays out the provisions. One thin black sleeping bag that reflects body heat. A small coil of barbed wire. A knife sharpener. A pack of crackers. A bottle of matches. A pack of dried beef. And a half-gallon plastic bottle with a cap for carrying water that's bone dry.

"Honestly, would it kill them to fill this?" She motions to the bottle. "How hard is it for them to fill a stupid bottle?"

Scanning the items in Stagger's bag, he has another sleeping bag, some rope, a lighter instead of matches, more crackers, another bottle and something else. Silk crawls closer and sees a pair of silver ear pieces. They're not piercings, Silk doesn't know what they are.

"What are those?" She asks.

Stagger raises them up and reflects the sun's glare. "I don't know." He answers.

He examines them closely and then his eyebrows rise. Turning the piece to the side, Silk can see a small R etched on one, and L on the other. Stagger puts one in his ear, and presses a button on its side. His eyes widen and mouth agape.

"What?" Silk asks intrigued.

"Listen," he hands her both and Silk carefully puts them in her ears.

Stagger shows her what button to press and when she does, Silk's eyes enlarge.

She could hear everything. Literally, _everything_.

From the birds chirping in the distance, that sound like they're right on her shoulder, to a lizard burrowing in the next dune over. And the worrying sound of a rattlesnake.

"Wow," Silk breathes. "These must be some kind of ultra-hearing device." Then she speaks before she can stop. "What my father wouldn't give to study these."

"He likes that sort of thing?" Stagger asks.

Silk looks to him, blinking and slightly pink. "Y-yeah, he builds things. And he also loves taking things apart and seeing what makes the tick, literally."

This makes Stagger chuckle and he refills his pack. "Alright, let's find some water."

Twilight it closing in and Kalvin and skylark are ill at ease. Skylar has slung both bow and pack on her back, the sheath around her waist along. She'd given Kalvin the belt of knives, and he carried one pack on his back, the other simply on one arm. Both take turns on carrying the third bag. Sky slightly regrets he took it, but the more supplies the better.

There's little concealment with the open sand. Several cactuses show up every few hours, but with Skylar keeps denying drinking anything in the arena yet. They recently stumbled upon a jackrabbit, but continued on as the sky grew darker.

In another hour, it's clear they've got to set up camp. Night creatures are coming out. They can hear the occasional hoot of an owl, her fist clue that there will be competitors for the rabbits.

"Hey Sky!" Kalvin calls.

Sky looks ahead and sees him trekking up a steep dune. He waves his hand and motions her over. Doing her best to make it there quickly without sweating too much, Sky follows. There were three spikes of different sizes poking out of the top, like needles in a pincushion.

They approach the top and Sky's heart sinks. As they near it, there's some loose fabric billowing off two of the larger ones. Looped through holes at the grave, they depicted foreign symbols that Skylar assumed wasn't even English. Up ahead far off in the distance, a gorgeous mountain lie in the distance, a heavenly beacon of light shooting from its top.

"Wow," Skylar breathes.

"Hey Sky," Kalvin calls. "Look at this."

He's a little bit passed the peak and as Sky follows, looking ahead she sees more gravestones sprinkling the sand. And a blurry square rock with a light twinkling.

"Think it's a trap?" Sky asks referring to the light.

"Maybe. But if it is trapped, must be important." Kalvin points out. Sky bites her lip but looks to him and nods her head. "Hey, you wanna slide down this?"

"We can do that?" Sky asks, her voice excited, sounding like a child.

"Here," Kalvin holds out his hand and Sky takes it without hesitation, and he leads her down the hill. After a few steps, her feet seem to automatically shift and she slides down the hill.

Up close, there were now too many graves to represent the eleven dead tributes. Perhaps these are the graves from previous players. Markings of their time here despite their bodies being taken home via hovercraft.

As they approach the foundation, Skylar volunteers to go up. They leave their stuff at the bottom, climbing their way up. There's no one guarding it, but Skylar takes cautious steps. Now face-to-face with it, there was more to the light that meets the eye. It was a mysterious symbol with little square, paper tags circling it. Skylar carefully approaches it.

As she nears a small brickstone borderline, the symbol suddenly pulsates, and specks of light draw near her. The symbol on her own outfit glowing. Sky takes fearful steps back, gasping as they circled her; Kalvin ready to snatch her away, but she doesn't feel pain.

Instead, they circle her for a few seconds, then they both watch in awe as her headpiece starts to grow a little tail behind her. Kalvin's doing the same, the same length. Sky then walks towards the paper tags and they suddenly glow and as they braise against her tail, the trimming of her cloak as well as her tail glimmer a halo white.

Her tail now pulsates white with gold the trimming.

"What does it do?" Kalvin asks, walking near. The tags then graze his tail and it glows white.

"I don't know. It's probably useful, but I doubt it prevents immunity." Sky jokes.

"Well, what should we do?" Kalvin asks.

"I don't know. But, I hope we can keep it." Sky says. "Let's see what else there is."

They hop off the foundation and continue to walk along a grave-infested sand path. Nothing seems to be of interest besides the multiple tags that seem to inhabit the small sections of a broken building. As Skylar and Kalvin climb up a dune, they soon some to the preservations of an ancient temple.

"Whoa," they both breathe.

Stagger and Silk are weary as they come to a small structure flooded with sand and broken split in half. Three spikes at the top. So far nothing has happened besides that Silk had followed a strange light, and in turn was brought to a small glowing symbol that rewarded her with a small tail. But she has no idea what it does.

Now she and Stagger saunter along, Silk becoming more aware of the dryness in her throat and mouth, the crack of her lips. They've been moving all day long. It's been hot and they've sweat a lot.

Silk grows nervous as the spikes are tombstones. "Do you think these . . . ?"

"No, cause look." Stagger points ahead and there are more crooked tombstones pockmarked the grounds in crowded patches. They leaned into and away from one another like scattered, broken teeth.

"Silk!" Stagger calls. "Check it out!"

Stagger takes his knife and slices at a cylindrical cactus. It has a green color, vertical ribs that are covered in heavy needles and yellow-green or red flowers at the top of the plant.

"Stagger don't!" Silk cries.

She remembers from training. Cactus juice can burn your mouth and throat, and can cause intense vomiting and diarrhea, making you even more dehydrated, according to Survival Tips. But Stagger cuts the top of the barrel-shaped plant with his knife, exposing a spongy pulp.

"Stagger!" Silk yells.

"Relax, Silk. This is a barrel-cactus. They're the one, if only, cactus you can drink." He says.

"But cactus juice can make you even more dehydrated." Silk argues.

"The barrel-cactus has a liquid that's potable water we can use." Stagger then scoops out the pulp of plant, revealing a slightly greenish liquid. Silk watches as Stagger eats the pulp raw. He hands her the second half. "It's good." He gulps.

Silk takes the pulp, the wetness of it making her mouth even drier. Her sandpaper tongue overpowering her, Silk squeezes the moisture onto her tongue. The liquid is a little sour, but the way it refreshes her mouth makes Silk sig with pleasure. They divide up the remains of the cactus and rehydrate themselves enough to explore further for shelter.

Soon they're rewarded with the sight of a sunken temple. Sliding down the hill, they stop just near a large tower at the epicenter of the temple. Silk spots two more symbols and retrieves them, giving them extensions on their tail. They settle under the under one roof off to the left of the tower.

The foundation was supported my two massive columns, and at the center, a small circle as if made just for them. The structure making Silk feel rather, at home. Three walls on each side and a wide opening to spot any enemy.

Night has come when they hear the anthem that proceeds with the death recap. Through the clouds they can see the seal of the Capitol, which appears to be floating in the sky. She's actually viewing another screen, an enormous one that's transported by one of their disappearing hovercrafts. The anthem fades out and the sky goes dark for a moment. At home, they would be watching full coverage of each and every killing, but that's thought to give an unfair advantage to the living tributes. For instance, if Sky got her hands on the bow and shot at someone, her secret would be revealed. No, here in the arena, all they see are the same photographs they showed when they televised their training scores. Simple head shots. But now instead of scores they post only district numbers. Silk takes a deep breath as the faces of the eleven dead tributes begin and tick them off one by one on her fingers. Stagger has set up their sleeping bags, casted their packs off to the side.

The first to appear is the girl from District 5. That means that the Career Tributes from 1 and 2 have all survived. No surprise there. Then the boy from 4. She didn't expect that one, usually all the Careers make it through the first day. The girl from District 5 . . . guessing the Goth boy made it. Both tributes from 6 and 7. The boy from 8. None from 9. Then there's the girl from 10. That's it. The Capitol seal is back with a final musical flourish. Then darkness and the sounds of the sand resume.

Silk's relieved Skylar's alive. She tells herself that if she gets killed, her winning will somehow benefit her father the most. This is what she tells herself to explain the conflicting emotions that arise when she thinks of Skylar. Eleven dead, but none from 3 or 9.

"Who's left?" Stagger asks.

Silk tries to work out whose left. Five Career tributes. Goth boy. Both of 11. That makes ten of them. The other three she'll figure out tomorrow. Now when it is dark, and they've traveled far, and nestled in an abandoned temple, with Stagger, she must try to rest.

"Come on." Stagger says. And Silk looks to find he's set up her sleeping bag. His off to the side.

"What about you?" she asks.

"I'll take the first watch." He says and smiles.

Silk slightly blushes, and instead of arguing, for once she allows him to do so, nestling herself into the sleeping bag. This sleeping bag, radiating back and preserving her body heat, will be invaluable. Draping her cap over it, she keeps her cover on as she lays her head down.

Looking directly out to the tower, she flicks her eyes over to Stagger, leaning against the column, one elbow resting on one knee, the other hand clutching his machete, leg stretched out.

As Silk closes her eyes, she feels a faint smile on her lips.


	10. Chapter 10

Silk woke up the next morning to find Stagger gone. She rubs her eyes and finds her Switch placed close to her sleeping bag and their tings still in place except for his pack. Silk scrambles out of her bag and crawls over to the edge of the edge. She can't see any footprints, probably so no one could track them back to her. But where is he?

She looks all around the temple while flattening on her belly. She doesn't see anyone and has to squints her eyes as an early morning breeze kicks up some sand. She sees a figure walking in the distance. She fumbles back to get her Switch. Gripping it in her hands, she waits until the person is right at the border of the temple room. She slides the blade end free with a slight hush.

Thankfully he removed his hood and Stagger's blonde hair shimmers in the light. Silk scrambles back as he mounts the stairs and quickly snatches her pack to pretend she's been awake for some time. He flings the pack up first before hoisting himself up. He turns to her and smiles.

"Hey you're up." he says.

"Yeah, figured you went out to get something so I got bored." She motions holding the coiled wire in her pack.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to know, I managed to find us breakfast." Stagger brings forward two jackrabbits.

"I'm not going to have to skin those am I?" Silk nervously asks.

"You squeamish?" Stagger teases as he settles.

"In this situation, yes. I've never hunted anything in my life." Silk admits. "And I'm probably going to vomit if you make me do this."

Stagger chuckles as he readies a small fire in the center of the veranda. "How about while I get this ready, you can explore around the temple, find some supplies."

Silk can't help but feeling a little grateful since the last thing she wants to do is skin and gut an animal. Especially since its eyes were still open.

"All right." Silk says.

She takes her Switch and steps down from the veranda and explores the inside of the temple. The sunken walls over a sense of protection and cover, despite that there might be cameras on her right now. She looks all around and only finds something rather intriguing.

Floating bits of, what appears to be paper. They circle and float around a small platform sunken into the sand. Silk steadily approaches them, climbing up and seeing them closer, they're the same color as her cloak. They circle her instantly, and Silk can't help but smile as they skim over her cloak, seeming to looks for something.

Silk follows them, making sure not to snag her cloak on the rocks. But another tag guides her over to another sunken platform. Following it, she stops shortly when she sees them circling around a shimmering symbol. It pulsates a heavenly white light and Silk suddenly feels drawn to it.

"Silk!" Stagger calls. He turns and finds him armed with a machete, running towards her. "Be careful!"

Silk shakes her head and looks back to the symbol. She just took one step closer and then small specks fly out from behind the symbol, and it slowly breaks down. They circle around her, first trailing up her outstretched arm and up to her back. Her cloak glows along with the front symbol of her suit. She looks to Stagger through the streams and his cloak mimic the same behavior.

Silk tries her best to looks behind her and sees her cloak growing out into a small tail. Then the tails suddenly encircle hr again and they braise against her tail and it glows white with a gold lining. They then sly over to Stagger and repeat the motions. Then they disperse and fly up to the main tower at the center of the temple.

"What was that about?" Stagger asks as he approaches.

"I have no idea." Silk replies. "Should we follow?"

Stagger looks to the tower for a moment, pondering. "Let's eat breakfast first."

He takes Silk's hand and guides her down the steps and back to the veranda. She looks back and watches the tags continuously circle one another, as if locked in a dance. She lets Stagger guide her back where the smell of roast rabbits wafts her nose.

Skylar and Kalvin had set up camp in the temple for the night, and after a small breakfast of bobcat Sky managed to hunt, they stow away the rest for later. Slinging their packs over their backs and grabbing their weapons, they both scout the area.

"Where do we go?" Kalvin asks.

"I don't know." Sky replies.

Their tails they received yesterday were still glowing faintly as they slide down the sand hill and climb up the broken bits of stairs of the tower. At the top, they're baffled when they find three streamers flowing out from every corner of the square design in its center. They're old looking and have the capability to blow away with the slightest gale that stirs up. Or even crumple to pieces with the slightest touch.

Skylar approaches the center when she passes one streamer. It suddenly glows and suddenly glimmers with a new velvet color. The area where she braised against it looked brand new and sparkled. Skylar looks at it baffled, and as it started to dwindle, she touches her fingers and the glimmer devours the entire streamer. Its old ancient texture replaced with brand new velvet red and smooth surface, mystic symbols trailing along its middle to the top. It glows and slowly starting from the top, the light slowly eats away at it until it disappears beneath the hole.

"Help me with these things." Sky says.

She touches the next one closest to her and Kalvin gets the ones in the other corners. Once they all are swallowed down by the small streams of light, the tower rattles. Sky stumbles back into Kalvin's arms as a small gate beneath them opens wide. They stumble off the square just as a swarm of carpets sprouts from the tower like a geyser. They fly up high and then circle back down and around Kalvin and Sky.

"Wow, that's amazing." Kalvin breathes.

"But what are they?" asks Sky. She walks to the middle of the square again and the carpets circle her. "Are they supposed to guide us somewhere?"

"Well, they must be important if the Gamemakers put them here." Kalvin points out.

As Sky slowly reaches up her hand, her symbol on her suit glows and catches multiple attentions of the carpets. They all suddenly stop in midair and turn sharply towards her. Then in a blink they swarm her Sky feels the ground leave her feet.

"Whoa!" she yelps as the carpets lead her over to a large gate with a strange statue in poised in front of it. She lands with an ankle-jarring stomp. Then they instantly disperse. "Whoa," she giggles.

"Sky!" Kalvin calls. She looks and finds herself on the other side of a broken bridge. Kalvin cups his hands around his mouth. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know!" she calls back. "Just, touch one of them."

Without waiting for him to try, Sky turns back and notices three smaller statues on both sides of the slanted on with a head the shape mimicking an eagle. Simple shapes adorned its base and its eyes were thinly almond-shaped. Behind it was a small set of stairs and a large gate. Sky hears Kalvin stagger along the floor. He regains footing and measures up to her.

"Wow, that was cool." He smiles.

Sky smiles back. "So what do you think this is?" she asks.

"Uh, I don't know." He peers behind it. "But it might have something to do with opening the gate. If we want to get out of here, we need to open it."

"And to open it we need to somehow activate the statue." Sky finishes with a whining tone. "So how do we do that?"

Kalvin turns back to the small statues surrounding it. As he approaches one, it automatically glows with another different symbol. "Try the statues."

Sky walks over to the other three on the other side and all three of them glow as she tentatively touches their tops. Once Kalvin activates the other three, they step back as the marks suddenly draw themselves free from the statues and all gather in front of the eagle statue, a small circle enough for the two of them to sit materializes.

Taking Kalvin's hand, they slowly approach the circle and the minute they step in it, their legs suddenly have a moment of their own and they settled on their own sides and sit down crossing their legs, but their handhold never broke.

He squeezes hard, and Skylar opened her mouth in a silent gasp of pain.

Just when she thought he'd cut off her circulation, her hand yielded and Kalvin's fingers passed through her, as if Skylar had suddenly become as intangible as a mirage. Almost as if preparing to waltz, Sky felt herself drawn forward. But her body remained paralyzed, rooted in place while some separate part of her began to slide forward, drawn by the invisible pull.

It felt as if she were being peeled away from herself.

And that, it seemed, was exactly what was happening.

Skylar's vision went double while the open-air sounds of the evening wind, and rustling sand became muted in her ears. Then, in a flash, everything disappeared, winking to crystal white. She floated in a world of nothing, weightless, alone, and strangely unconcerned about what had just happened or where she was or if she would come back. It was like teetering between waking and falling asleep, and it made him wonder if this was what dying felt like.

Something pulled at her, and her senses returned.

Looking down at her side, she saw her hand was free from Kalvin's grip.

Sky's breathless as she sees herself in a world or pure white. All she could see is a light from the mountain she saw from the Cornucopia. In front of her was a black silhouette; it was faded as if lost in fog. Fear pierced her gut like a spear, holding her in place. But she miraculously moves her feet, but toward the being.

It suddenly drops its head back and lets out along bellowing call, and Skylar's blinded by a bright light once again.

She watches a brief snippet of the mountain before she blinks and a swirl of images shuttered through her brain like snapshots in a broken reel of film. Closing her eyes, she tried to find one frame and latch on to, one fleeting symbol or shadow that would trigger the memory of what it is she's seeing. But the pictures slid by too quickly, growing dimmer and more uncertain the faster her consciousness swam toward the surface to reality.

With another blink, she finds herself sitting next to Kalvin, their hands to themselves, and the large gate in front of them suddenly clinks and opens.

"Kalvin," Sky whispers. She looks to find him blinking and rubbing his eyes. "Kalvin." She repeats. "Are you okay?"

"A little light-headed but, fine. What just happened?" he asks.

"I'm not sure, but look, the gates re open." Sky points.

They slide and settle into the walls of the temple with a _clang_. At the end of the corridor, cold light illuminated far beyond.

"Should we go?" Skylar asks.

"Well, we won't do any good sitting around here." Kalvin points.

Sky nervously looks to the corridor and back at Kalvin. It would be better for them if they moved along, knowing if they stayed in the same place too long, they'd be found. Whether the Gamemakers will set it up that way, or just by time, they needed to move.

Skylar takes a deep breath and exhales. "Alright."

Mounting the steps, Sky follows close behind Kalvin as they walk towards the light.

Skylar blinks as she takes in the scenery before her. After that strange encounter with the white cloaked figure, the light at the end of the hall revealed to them a much smaller open plain flooded with sand. It fell in graceful waterfalls along the rocks, glittering the in afternoon sun, rippling along the ground with a hush. Looking ahead, there were the remnants of a broken bridge hop-scotching across to the other side, where another beacon of light awaited them.

Skylar looks down and sees the drop. She gulps. "How are we going to get across?"

Kalvin looks in the dame direction along the vast space. "There must be something to build it with. We just need to figure it out."

There were bits of something mechanical scattered along the field, littering the sand with their contrasting colors of grey. They had the same worn cloths billowing in the breeze. If they worked before, they may again. But how were they supposed to get down. They must be at least five stories high.

"Don't worry." Kalvin says. He must've noticed her nervous expression because he takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be fine."

Skylar looks to him with a questionable looks, but Kalvin smiles.

"Ready?"

Sky takes a deep breath and nods. They run and leap off of the pathway and to Skylar's surprise, they drift, pleasantly down until their feet hit the sand. The only pain she does feel is the jarring hit of her ankles to the sand. She regains her balance and climbs up a rock next to Kalvin.

He touches the carpet and the glow consumes it, then is fizzles down into the metallic box. The box vibrates and suddenly thousands of carpets erupt from the box and swarm around the two. The then disperse and rush towards the half sunken platform, then they bind together and form a larger cloth connecting one platform to the other.

"Something tells me we're on the right track." Sky jokes. Kalvin smiles.

"Let's spread out and see what we can find." Kalvin says.

Skylar nods and goes off to the left while Kalvin ventures to the right. Skylar keeps her bow at ready as she searches around the next giant mound of rock and mechanical debris. There haven't been any tributes yet, but Sky knows that the Capitol audience demands entertainment. So no doubt the Gamemakers will try and lure them to her, or her to them.

She mounts onto a small outcropping of rocks and surveys the area. Off to her left she spots another glowing symbol. She quickly hops down and runs over to it as fast as her feet could push through the sand. Her hand barely touched it when the wisps suddenly appeared and encircled her. Kalvin who had just released a small flock of tags looked down to his uniform and smiled as their tales grew longer. He makes a mental note to find out what it does later.

Skylar approaches a hill made of rocks with what looks like part of a mechanical centipede draped over the top. She climbs her way up and settles on one end of the rock, then jumping, she catches herself on the next. Hoisting herself up, she looks at the two carpets before touching them. The mechanical machine vibrates and more carpets flutter and scatter to make two more bridges closer to the end.

Kalvin calls her over and Sky sees he's found another tail piece. Their capes glow, and Sky helps Kalvin in releasing the last piece of the bridge. They watch as the tags form the middle section of the bridge, and when it's complete, each section glows starting from the very bottom to the top.

"Well, that's that. Let's go." Kalvin says.

"Well hey, wait. Let's just scan the area make sure we didn't miss anything." Skylar retorts.

Kalvin sighs and allows her to browse around while he waits for her at the head of the bridge. Skylar heads back behind the mound she saw before and found nothing more but other small pieces of the bridge. She releases the other carpets as she makes her way to a small cave, inside a small symbol. Would've gone unnoticed hadn't she checked.

But as her hand reached out, her wrist was suddenly grabbed and instinctively, she screams. The other hand grabbed her throat and spun her until her back slammed into the side of the cave. The Goth boy from 5, grimaces at her and Skylar snarls in return.

"Oh how very predictable of you, dumbass." He speaks. Skylar's momentarily baffled hearing him talk for the first time. His voice was cool and smooth. "Oh how very sad indeed."

Skylar immediately knees him in the groin and without stopping bits his wrist, pinching the skin between her teeth until she was sure she would draw blood. The boy yells and reflexively releases Sky. Taking her bow, she slams is into the side of his head. He falls into the sand and Sky quickly snatches the symbol and rushes out.

The boy grabs her ankle and Skylar fumbles forward and spits out some sand as the boy scrambles to flip her over and straddling her hips. His hands go for her throats, but Sky is ready. She grabs his wrist and constricting her fingers around his, wrenches it to the side. He screams in pain and snarls at her. Then when Sky works up a good mouthful of sand and spits, she spews it in his face.

Jerking back, Sky grabs his wrist and harshly punches the bent in his elbow until he hears it pop. He screams in shear pain and Sky pushes herself up and shoves him off. She grabs her bow which she lost when she fell and runs.

Suddenly a shadow catches her attention and she looks up in time to see a lasso envelope her torso. She's yanked back, smacking into sand, her head banging into a small rock. Sky bites her lip and grits her teeth to keep from screaming at the pain in her head, but let's fly the most vicious swear word she's ever heard her father speak.

The Goth boy straddles her hips again, this time, wielding a knife in his right hand. His left arm dangles at an odd angle and Sky swallows back the bile forming at the back of her throat.

The boy flips the knife blade out and leans close to her ear." I might go easy on you if you cry."

Skylar's body crawls with goosebumps as his breath tickles her ear.

"Come on babe, just one little tear. Maybe some begging." He says.

"Fuck You." Sky growls.

His mischievous look disappears. His arm twitches and pain stabs Skylar's jaw and spreads across her face, making her vision go black at the edges and her ears ring. His foot suddenly steps on both her wrists. She blinks, trying to focus her vision and finds his feet pinning both her wrists down. She tries to fight him, but his weight is fully on her wrists; so much she's afraid one extra lean and it'll be broken.

The blade of his knife glints in the light as he flips the blade forward. His smile makes Skylar quiver but she stares him in the eye. He taps the tip of the blade to his chin, as if debating on where to make the first slash. Then when he talks, Sky's stomach sinks.

"Ah, fuck it."

Then in another twitch of his arm, the blade embeds into Skylar's side. She wails. Her howl, primal and fierce, pierced the desert silence. Her shrill cry felt as if ti was ripping her vocal chords to shreds. She could tell from the harsh pinching behind her it had penetrated through her completely. Blood blooms around the blade and the boy only smiles.

But before he could yank the blade free, Kalvin comes out of nowhere and body slams him into the side, hands outstretched at the Goth boy's midsection. Kalvin hits him hard, knocking him down, and pins the boy to the ground. Skylar gasps as the weight helps in relieving a small slice of the pain.

The Goth boy thrashes, but Kalvin is heavy and doesn't budge. He punches, and the boy moves his head out of the way, but Kalvin just punches again, and again until his fits hits the boys' jaw, his nose, his mouth. Blood runs down the side of the boy's face and splatters on the sand next to his cheek. The Goth boy screams and drags one of his arms free. He punches Kalvin in the ear, knocking him off-balance, and wriggles free. He comes to his knees, holding his face with one hand. The blood streaming from his nose is thick and dark and coves his fingers in seconds. He screams again and crawls away from Kalvin. Kalvin kicks his side and sends him sprawling on his back.

_Get up!_ Skylar screams at herself. She rolls to her uninjured side and grits her teeth, trying so hard not to wail out in agony. Regaining her vision, she finds her bow half buried in the sand. The world rocks back and forth and she swallows back the food and bile. She grits her teeth as every movement of her legs reflects back to the knife in her side. She cradles it with one hand, applying as much pressure as the pain will allow her.

When the weapon is within arms' reach, she jerks herself forward, snatches it whirling herself up on one knee. She closes her eyes until the world settles and finds Kalvin now pinned beneath the boy. His face speckled with droplets of the boy's blood. Skylar reaches for an arrow and knocks it automatically. Now if only her vision would focus. She blinks and ignores the pain enough to line down her aim. Releasing the arrow, it flies and stabs through the boy's head.

His body slacks instantly and falls to one side, a wet gurgling noise emanates from the back of his throat before he flops to the ground. Skylar follows, falling to one side; Kalvin scrambling to his feet and barreling towards her.

Skylar pushes to her knees and with her right hand grips the hilt of the knife. With two fingers of her left hand, she presses the skin and grits her teeth as she painfully slowly pulls out the blade. When it's mostly out, she gives it one last yank and cries in agony.

The world burs again and her heart pounds in her ears. Skylar closes her eyes, and this time doesn't fight the urge. She turns away from him and grips the side of a rock as the vomiting begins, and she loses her breakfast and water she had. Crouching on her hands and knees, she retch until her stomach has grown used to the pain. Kalvin soon comes behind her, holding her hair.

They need to get moving, but she's trembling and slightly light-headed. Kalvin gives her a spoonful of water to rinse out her mouth and spit, then takes a few more swallows from her bottle. The pain has remarkably decreased from removing the knife, but a severe pain still pulsates in her side. A cannon sounds and Kalvin helps Sky to sit on a rock. He kneels in front of her and tells her to move her hand. Skylar does and Kalvin's fingers ghost over the wound. Skylar knows he doesn't know much about treating a wound, so she simply applies pressure and forces herself to stand.

"What are you doing?" Kalvin suddenly asks.

"We need to move." Skylar grumbles.

"No, no you need rest. You can't stress your body more." Kalvin argues.

"I'll be fine, we just need to get out of here before anything else happens. Pain is a feeling, whatever I'm feeling, I won't remember in an hour." Sky then grits her teeth and starts to walk.

"Dammit, I hate it when you're stubborn." Kalvin says, then he's at her side, giving her a shoulder in aid.

As he collects their weapons and loots the Goth boy's body as they walk, Skylar soon manages to stand up straight. The pain is dwindling and now it's merely about how much weight she places on her left foot. Her own pain tolerance surprises her. She had always assumed she was a weakling for these sort of things. When they reach the bridge, their cloaks suddenly glow and they hover slightly above the streamer.

"Come on." Kalvin says after a moment of surprise.

Floating along the streamers, the pain seems to dull whenever they glide along, only to be reactivated when they walk the short distance of pillars. When they get to the top, Skylar manages to hold herself well through the vision of stories, though she still stagger slightly.

She slings the bow over her back and follows Kalvin up the stairs and down the corridor.

Shutting her eyes from the bright light, she holds Kalvin's hand to keep from falling behind. He helps her through the pathway and up a steep dune. From the top, they can see the mountain far ahead, though a little closer this time. As they slide down the hill a star seems to shoot out from the tip of the mountain.

"How you doing?" he asks.

"I can manage." She response. She continues to press her hand to the wound, the blood seeming to have stopped. The blood blossom no bigger than when she first got stabbed. "My bodysuit will hopefully stop it. At least it's covered."

"Well let's at least find a spot for you to rest up." Kalvin insists.

Skylar sighs and agrees. They have yet to inspect their packs. So they travel along until Kalvin finds a small section of pillars next to another small mechanical box. He boosts Skylar up and she keeps her hand close to her side as Kalvin sits next to her, crossing his legs and laying the packs along.

Skylar's black pack consisted of a lighter, some rope and string, a thermal jacket with reversible materials, her bottled water – which is running low – and a pack of crackers, and some sunglasses. She puts them on, but they immediately glint too brightly at the sunlight. Sky blinks to regain her vision and looks over to Kalvin's. His had nothing to keep warm, but a first aid kit. Then some dried fruit and that was it. The kit must have important things if that's all that's given.

The kit itself was a medium sized white box with a red cross on its front. Popping it open, there were latex free protective gloves, pocket mask for CPR, five to ten 4x4 and 3x3 gauze pads, a couple of rolls of 3 inch gauze, a couple rolls 1 inch gauze, 1 inch tape, Bandaids, Betadine scrub (Small bottle), Neosporin ointment, small bottle of saline for irrigation of eyes, tweezers and scissors and safety pins, a triangular bandage, an emergency foil blanket, some aspirin pills, and one to two instant cold packs.

"Wow, handy." Skylar smiles.

"Well here," Kalvin hands her the gauze and aspirin pills. "You get yourself together and I'll . . . I'll just go and scout the area."

"Uh, okay. Be careful." Skylar says. Kalvin nods and arms himself with the belt of knives and walks on.

Skylar gently smiles as she reaches back and unzips her jumpsuit. She dabs around her wound and after cleaning it up, places one of the 3x3 gauze pads on top. She zips it back up and takes a couple of pills as Kalvin comes back; with an interesting creature.

The only thing Skylar could even come close to connecting it with any animal she's familiar with is an octopus. It was basically a folded piece of the same cloth they've seen the stage designed with, and a trio of streamers serving as tails. It made a strange chirping sound and it instantly swam over to Skylar and circled her. Her cloak grew bright and it hovered around them as Kalvin approached.

"What is that thing?" She asks.

"I just activated one of those streamers we keep seeing and this just popped out." He explains. Skylar smiles as the creature comes down and she extends out her hand. It hovers above it before flipping back and hovering near another streamer.

Skylar gets up and moves forward to it. She touches it and when is descends it reveals another octopus. The two circle one another and chirp back and forth in joy. They then turn and head off in another direction.

"Well, not much of a thank you." Skylar jokes.

"Feeling better?" Kalvin asks as he sits next to Skylar.

"Much. Good kit." Skylar dismisses. "So, you wanna rest for awhile?"

"You want to?" he asks her.

Skylar looks to him annoyed. "I don't care."

"Well I'd prefer we'd stay stationary until you're better." He says.

"I'm fine, I treated it and I'm feeling better." Sky insists.

Nonetheless, Kalvin makes himself comfortable and pulls out the bobcat meat from this morning. Skylar sighs and submits. They build a small fire making sure to cover the smoke, and while Kalvin simply rests, Skylar peels apart the string she has and begins to weave it into the string of her bow, making a plaited string for her bow. Stringing it, she pulls it back and feels a stronger resistance, which means it'll make more damage.

As they chomp on two crackers, Skylar suddenly catches a shift in the sand. She drops her bow and plops her feet on the sand. "Skylar?" Kalvin asks.

She doesn't respond, instead she whirls around and snatches her bow. "Get down," she orders, and Kalvin follows her, grabbing his knives. They duck behind the slope of the pillars as footsteps whispered in the sand. With their fire still crackling and the bobcat meat still there, it would be irresistible.

Skylar reaches back and readies an arrow in her bow. She takes a deep breath and stiffens when she hears the person mount slope and hears the munching of the meat. She slowly toggles her way up to the front where she pulls back her string. Moving silently, she sees two cloaked figures and snarls.

One of them notices her, and Sky was about to let her arrow fly when she notices a pair of familiar ice green eyes.


End file.
